Alius Terra
by Crimson Taklian
Summary: {Crossover - Harry Potter} Ancient routes reopened send the Marquess of Pherae and his army into the country of England, in which two traitors from the Scouring made their mark.
1. Arrivo

I do not own Fire Emblem or Harry Potter. Fire Emblem belongs to Nintendo and Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. All song lines belong to their original singers. I own all original characters and the plotline.

IMPORTANT! - This is a revise of Jessica Kite's original story, as Crimson Taklian is a revise account of Jessica Kite and Demon Vassal. I didn't steal her work, so don't report me.

Chapter I:

Arrivo

_. . . You'll never hear me crying, you'll never see my trying . . .  
-'Never: Past Tense' by the Roc Project featuring Tina Arena_

The night was cold and deserted by all life forms as nature cried its angry tears. A monstrous thunderstorm raged outside, splattering the windows with frozen water and seemingly sending its cold through the thick paneling in the walls. Thunder crackled and lightning flashed across the sky, like omens or signs from the greater beings. It was completely dark outside, the streetlamps dark from the electrical outage, and not a thing was moving. Inside the neat and tidy homes of Privet Drive in Surrey, only one person was awake and stirring.

Summer was never the favored time of year for the teenaged wizard Harry Potter. He was isolated from the world he belonged to for the two month holiday, stranded amongst people who hated him while he never saw his friends' faces in this suburban prison. Now, even letters made no difference to him, as he knew he could never find his godfather's confident, caring letters with Ron's and Hermione's messages of false happiness. His emerald eyes, now dark and empty from emotional pain, were closed as silent tears dripped down his cheeks, as they had done so much since that day.

Five or six unread and unopened letters littered his bedside table, mingled amongst parchment tinged with yellow in which he had tried and failed to deliver responses to the letters he had read. His fingernails dug into his palm, drawing precious crimson blood. His palms were covered in crisscrossing scars, some white from age yet many still a darkish red from recent openings. It was his way of reliving the pain, his way of numbing himself from the outside world.

"Sirius."

The name, that one name that used to bring him so much comfort in the darkest hours, now scared him. It burnt through his dreams, he relived that night so many times in both his waking and sleeping moments. It was burnt into his mind, engraved into his skull forever, the image of his beloved godfather falling behind that accursed veil, and it was all because of him.

Nobody really helped him. He had stopped reading the falsely cheery letters sent by his so-called friends, all encouraging him to get out and breath fresh air. Harry knew that if he did leave the sanctity of number four, the Order would berate him with warnings and omens. They didn't understand. No one did. He rested his head on his knees, which were pulled up to his chest.

"I wish . . . I wish there was someone who I could just talk to. Someone who knows what it's like to feel so empty . . ." Harry inhaled deeply and leaned back against the creaking headboard of his bed, wishing for once he could sleep without being interrupted by horrific nightmares.

The Water Temple of Bern was echoing with the sounds and smell of war. Charred and dismembered cadavers littered the indigo-hued floor, though the original color was hidden beneath a thick coat of coppery colored blood. In the eastern corner was where the heart of the battle was, a single woman against a mercenary army of many. Sonia, the despicable temptress and heartless demoness, raised a slender hand, as her slanted golden eyes glowing cold blue. Her hand too was covered in a similar aura.

"Fimbulvetr!" she cried, summoning a whirling tornado of icicles and winter wind. The ice tempest slammed into the young Eliwood of Pherae like a rampaging horse, creating several cuts across his face and neck. The majority of the blow missed him, yet he was still flung back. He hit the stone wall of the small chamber with a crash, his head colliding painfully with the hard marble. He tasted blood in his mouth and his head spun for a moment or two, but he ignored it, getting to his feet shakily shortly afterward. He saw Nino raise her hand, glowing with the Anima power of fire, seemingly trying to avenge his recent injury.

Close behind her, Eliwood caught the pale blonde head of the army's tactician look over suddenly with wide emerald orbs. "No!" she yelled, catching the attention of one lavender haired thief close by, "You'll be killed idiot!"

But the young Mage, her normally kind being full of hatred at her foster mother, was glowing with a deep crimson aura. Her sweet voice was hardened as well as she cried out her most powerful spell, "ELFIRE!"

Sonia took the attack full blow and smirked widely, unaffected and unharmed. "Fool, I am perfect, you cannot harm me," she hissed, sending another Fimbulvetr towards Nino with a flick of her cobalt-shrouded hand. She was flung backwards, crashing into Lyn and knocking both women into the water. Sputtering, the Caelin princess climbed out quickly and extending a gauntleted hand to Nino. The young girl was shivering, one of her arms iced over. She thawed it with a simple Fire spell, but the damage was done.

"BOLTING!" roared Erk's voice from a good way away and three lightning bolts stuck down upon Sonia. Again, the Black Fang leader simply threw back her long hair and smirked, showing her perfectly even teeth. "I think I broke a nail," she said mockingly with an almost sadistic giggle.

Hector swung his axe and she nimbly dodged with a dancer's grace, and the axe was lodged between two bricks behind her slim figure. Cursing loudly and viciously, he tried to remove it while Rath of the Kutolah readied his bow, taking aim as his heels dug into his horse's flanks to steady the chestnut mare. While Sonia was occupied sending a Thunder spell at the still-shivering Nino, his arrow soared and sunk into her deep into her right forearm.

"Bulls eye," smirked the Nomad in his own black humor, slipping his bow into the quiver and drawing his Iron Sword on his mare's flank.

Sonia screeched like a banshee, ripping the arrow from her flesh as blood dripped down her arm in a crimson river. "You'll pay," she snarled, eyes glowing the coldest blue, her body radiating icy air. The marble floor around her froze instantly and several of their men struggled to regain posture, their weapons flying to the sides.

She sent a huge Fimbulvetr spell right at Rath with a hard and high-pitched battle cry. The Sacean was knocked off his horse and fell into the water with a loud splash. As he tried to climb out with his fingernails scraping against the tiles viciously, Guy and Matthew - both of whom had just been hit by another of Sonia's thunder spells - slammed into his horse and knocked all four deeper into the water. Pent, his eyes and hands glowing with the traditional silver-white light of Eturian telekinesis, lifted the scared horse out of the water and the three men clambered back onto dry ground. Guy was breathing the heaviest, coughing out water as he steadied himself against his katana.

Lyn, still unsteady on the ice, charged with the Mani Katti glowing with its holy white aura but Sonia pushed her easily into the wall, bringing her kneecap into Lyn's stomach. Lyn's olive eyes went wide and with a nasty crack, the Sacean crumbled as her magical sword was flung aside. Her dark eyes were closed, but spittle combined with blood gathered at the corner of her mouth. Roaring in fury for his fallen friend, Hector charged with his newly freed Wolf Bail raised to cleave Sonia in two. She smirked and moved aside, causing the Ostian noble to crash into Eliwood and both tumbled aside. Eliwood's rapier clattered harmlessly against the thick metal of Hector's armor but the Pherean prince had to crane his neck the other way to stop the sharp blade of the axe from touching the skin.

"Sorry," Hector hissed, seeing the thin cut that his axe had made on Eliwood's upper arm. It was bleeding rather viciously.

"Never mind," Eliwood said with a snappish tone unlike his normal, picking up his discarded saber.

He then had dodged Heath's spear, which had come flying from the heavens and sunk into the marble throne Bern's priests had once sat upon. Sonia raised her hands to the heavens, calling upon lightning to hit the viridian-haired Wyvern Rider. With a yell, sliding on the ice in a dangerous manner, Nino slammed into her mother and both fell to the ground with a crack. Sonia's arm was bent behind her in an abnormal position and Nino's ankle had done similar. Eyes blazing in fury, Sonia threw Nino off her in a blast of onyx mental power. The girl was thrown into the air and over the chambers wall. Although none saw, they heard a loud splash that meant Nino had hit water and painfully as well. Sain of Caelin, upon seeing his fallen lady for the first time, flung his axe at Sonia, who had taken to hovering a few feet above the ground surrounded by her black light. She dodged the weapon and compromised by sending a blast of ice at him.

Unbalanced as he tried to draw his sword too late, he was flown off his horse and skidded across the icy ground and into the water. Due to his armor's weight, he did not resurface anytime soon. Roaring in fury, Kent flung lance at Sonia as Wil threw aside his bow, diving into the water to try and get the knight.

"It seems I touched a nerve," cackled Sonia, catching Kent's lance out of the air inches from her and throwing it back at Kent, only it was now its head was charged with electricity. She missed the Caelin commander by a mile and the tactician – young Firefly of Ilia – raised two fingers towards the group's young Bishop and Druid. In response, Lucius' eyes glowed with his white magic while Canas' were pitch black in comparison.

"AURA!" "LUNA!"

The two spells merged, sending a huge beam of fused Light and Dark magic right at Sonia. She couldn't dodge in time and she fell to the ground with a scream, body covered in numerously bleeding scratches, her pale skin paler. For a moment it seemed she was dying from the way she screeched in agony, convulsing on the ground. In confidence, Legault swept over and drew one of his many daggers to pierce the woman's chest. It never collided with her, for Sonia's body glowed in blue light. "FIMBULVETR!" she roared, standing shakily, and the chilly spell struck Lucius. He fell backwards, his right arm and staff frozen solid. Nino – recently escaped from the deep mote surrounding the chamber - rushed over, thawing his arm but he winced as he moved it. "It's numb."

Priscilla and her stallion were there in seconds, her staff glowing pale blue as she focused her pure magic through it. "Mend," she commanded of the magic, and the color returned to Lucius's face and arm. But a Thunder spell knocked Priscilla off her horse. She yelped in pain but her yell was cut short as her head collided with the tile, knocking her out cold.

Raven's blood-red orbs were alight with fury, often expressed if the Valkyrie was injured in battle. The mercenary charged at Sonia, his Iron Blade raised to his left shoulder in his traditional – albeit unusual – fighting form. Although his sword arm was steady, his face was that of a rampaging demon with narrowed eyes of such an evil color and barred teeth. His sword swings missed the target and Sonia flung her leg out towards him, apparently aiming for his torso. He dodged and sliced her leg with the blade, piercing at least to her mussel system. Scarlet blood spilled out onto the already heavily stained floor. Sonia's body glowed with yellow light, a change from the constant blue aura she seemed to have. "THUNDER!"

The attack wasn't focused on Raven, but his thick blade. As it passed through the iron and into his body, the electricity intensified as did the pain. The copper-haired swordsman fell to the ground, breathing heavy only to receive a kick in the face by Sonia. It missed his temple by several inches, blocking a fatal blow. He was, however, flung aside and his head hit the wall that had already knocked unconscious many of the soldiers. A trickle of blood slid down his cheek, his eyes closed and mouth agape.

Sonia was wheezing now to. The ice was quickly melted by Lord Pent's Elfire spell and Lady Isadora charged with her Silver Spear ready and face expressionless. Inches from the dark lady, Sonia held out a hand and flung the Paladin backwards with a shield of telekinetic energy. She looked insane, her eyes wide with contracted pupils and sharpened white teeth grit together as though they were about to crack. She was twitching in her shoulders as well, as though about to collapse into a seizure.

"You, you infidels have brought me too close to death!" she yelled, going back to the air by her telekinesis, both her palms glowing with orbs of black energy. The added effect did only to worsen her psychotic appearance.

"Lord Negal will be pleased I do this. I will remove you from Elibe, all of you forever!"

The triad of Ilian Pegasus Knights threw their silver-tipped spears at Sonia, though they clattered uselessly at the shield surrounding her. Her black aura grew stronger, as did her maddened expression and appearance. "Good- bye, Eliwood of Pherae and company. GO TO HELL!" she snarled, her voice muffled from behind her clenched teeth. Sonia's aura exploded in waves of black light, cracking the floor of the Water Temple with its powerful shockwaves.

The last thing Eliwood saw before his mind raced to blackness was, what looked like, a figure clad in navy cloth of nobility.

". . . Father?"

The smell of grass filled his nostrils, making him cough for a minute or two before his mind completely entered the conscious world again. Eliwood moaned groggily, sitting up and rubbing his head. It felt like the time he had drunk that Lycian wine on a dare from Hector, except much worse. Now that he was out of battle, his wounds seemed to hurt so much more, especially the magic-induced electrical scars across his neck and shoulder He blinked, the world around him coming into a hazy focus in a slow, nauseating fashion. The scene greeting him was unusual, but it made him breath in relaxation for a minute. At least he wasn't in St. Elimine's domain. Though wherever he was, it certainly wasn't the Water Temple. It was sopping wet, and outdoors since the dark and gloomy sky poured out buckets of freezing water.

The landscape surrounding him was in a dark garden of a small home painted white, not of any style that he had ever scene. The many flower beds were disturbingly neat and tidy, unlike the vast sprawling gardens of Lady Elanora on Pherae Castle's grounds. The grass was short and springy, though probably unpleasant to sleep upon. Squinting in the darkness of the night, he gave a thin smile and another sigh of relief. Both Hector and the Lady Lyn lay next to him, showing the signs of their fight with Sonia. Hector was better then both the Caelin princess and Eliwood, cut a little on his right cheek from stray icicles, yet Lyn was unconscious and frightfully pale compared to her usual tan appearance. To his (not unwanted) surprise, Ninian and Nils also lay on the damp ground, the elder of the two siblings had a protective grasp on her slumbering younger brother. Ninian was paler then normal as well, her thin dress soaked to the bone from the pounding rain.

No one else seemed to be around. Eliwood knelt down by his axe-wielding friend, shaking Hector awake gently incase there were any unnoticed injuries on his person. The Ostian noble blinked several times, clutched his head as his first conscious move and grabbed the steel hilt axe immediately. Upon realizing there was not enemy, he relaxed slightly and looked up at his vermilion haired friend.

"The hell . . .?" he asked, looking around, "When did we get here? Where's that damn Sage? Where is everyone?" He glared exasperatedly at Eliwood as he stood. Up close, the Pheraen could see Hector's face was a blotchy pale, like spoiled milk.

"I don't know, to all four questions," said Eliwood, tearing off a bit of fabric from the end of his cape and wrapping it around his bleeding arm. The rain stung against the broken skin, his injured neck already causing him enough pain without the added bonus of a bleeding arm. He then knelt down in the soft ground towards Ninian and shook her gently, Hector doing similar to Lyn. Although Ninian woke quickly with a shocked and fearful expression, her younger brother soon following the action.

"Lord Eliwood? Where, where are we?" asked Ninian in her usual soft, strangely accented voice, standing and shivering furiously. Her teeth were chattering and her silk dress was already soaked to the bone from rain, clinging to her curvy, well-defined form. Undoing his cape, Eliwood wrapped it around the dancer like a cloak as Nils surveyed the area. The young bard had his right eyebrow raised, it always was when he was deep in thought, and his innocent voice answered his sibling's question before Eliwood could. "It looks like we're in somebody's garden. Pretty small for Bern though . . ." He trailed off as he spotted Hector, still trying fruitlessly to wake Lyn.

"Lady Lyndis? Lyndis?" asked Hector hurriedly, shaking Lyn even harder. The Sacaen's head lolled from side to side like that of a rag doll.

She didn't stir, though her mouth did drop open a few inches. Hector checked her pulse with his thumb, fearing the worse. It beat. "That blow must have been harder then it looked, and it looked really hard," muttered Eliwood as Hector lifted her up like a groom would do to his new bride. The Mani Katti was a few feet away from them, its blessed silver blade a beacon in the dark. As the young Pheraen touched the leather wrapped hilt, the blade vanished to reappear in its scabbard. Ninian spoke again, clutching tightly onto Eliwood's cape for warmth, and spoke again in her gentle dialect.

"Well, we'd better check with the people who live here. It is clear that Lady Lyndis needs help, right Lord . . . Hector?"

The navy haired nobleman was looking at Lyn's face with mingled fury and sadness, his voice uncharacteristically serious and harsh. "That bitch . . ." he hissed darkly, a clap of thunder blocking most of his other profanity, ". . . Sonia has to die."

Ninian shuddered even more, her arms reaching out to wrap around her little brother's shoulders. "I'm sure Lady Lyndis is fine Lord Hector, she just needs a healer's help," Nils said calmingly, shivering himself.

"Let's worry about death threats when we find out where we are," said Eliwood sagely, making sure his own rapier was at his side. The freezing metal did not help his already icy feeling and he quickly let go of the hilt. Seemingly without fear or nerves, he walked over to the back door of the small, meticulously clean house and knocked on the glass door, though he couldn't see an inch into the building.

"Hello? Anyone in there?" he called, hoping that somebody could hear him over the sound of the storm.

A sudden rush of magical energy ran through Harry's body and his head shot up in seconds, his hand instinctively reaching to grab his wand perched on his bedside table. His already almond-shaped eyes were narrowed further as he stood, wondering why he wasn't feeling more afraid. He could hear faint knocking from downstairs, very faint so that somebody with only very acute hearing could have caught it. Harry's fist curled around his wand tighter, and he made his way silently across the bedroom and down the landing to the stairwell. All three Dursleys were normally heavy sleepers, which amazed Harry as to why Hedwig bothered his uncle during his second year.

Creeping downstairs and making sure none of the stairs creaked on contact with his bare feet, he knew the second he hit the ornate carpet of the entrance hallway that the knocking was coming from the backyard door, which was found in the back of the kitchen. He walked past the dining room, his bare feet making no noise on the wood floor but sending icy chills up and down his spine. Harry, his grip still very tight on his wand, pushed open the kitchen door and saw three or four people at the rain-washed glass door. One person – the one closest to the door - had bright red hair and wore something blue and white. The other people he couldn't make out even a blurry outline from the rain.

His wand was in a white-knuckled death grip, and on a spur of the moment he unlocked the back door and pulled it open. He now could see the red haired figure – who had previously been little more then a fuzzy blob – was a boy barely older then himself, maybe seventeen or eighteen, with sapphire eyes and weather-beaten tan skin. He wore, strangely enough; clothing that probably went out of style a thousand years ago. These included a richly embroidered blue tunic and white trousers tucked into dark blue boots trimmed with gold, two plates of cerulean armor on either shoulder. A fencing rapier was at his side in a black, ornate scabbard. The other person, or people actually, was an older boy with dark hair and clad black, navy and brandy armor. He was holding a girl dressed in a long, blue dress reminiscent of North American Indians and leather boots who looked unconscious who had . . . dark green hair? It must have been a trick of the light.

The final two people were the oddest, yet they were the ones that caught Harry's attention the most. The older and taller of them was a girl with long, pastel blue-green hair, as did the younger boy, though in a darker shade. They looked related but both their eyes . . . both their eyes were such a shade of vivid scarlet it could rival Lord Voldemort's, except they weren't the horrible, furious eyes that had burnt away five years of Harry's life and all of his childhood. They were sad and worried, wise beyond their years, yet so sorrowful it was pitiful.

"We really need your help," said the red haired boy in an extremely foreign accent, slightly a mix between American and British, "Our friend's been hurt badly. Do you have a place we could tend to her?" He really sounded worried, near hysterical even.

Harry's darkened green eyes looked at the fencer's right arm, which had a piece of cloth tied around it with blood seeping through, and the nasty electrical burns on his face and neck. The taller boy and unconscious girl showed signs of some sort of battle, the girl more then the boy. Blood was gurgling in her mouth, mingled with saliva, and the same coppery liquid marred her hairline. The two pastel-haired siblings weren't battle scared but they both were marble pale. The girl was shivering constantly, and her dress was soaked to the bone. The blanket she wore around her shoulders and had draped somewhat about the shorter boy wasn't providing much help against the weather either.

Harry spoke in a voice that surveyed his distrust and worry, raising his wand a few inches.

"Who the ruddy hell are you all?"

End Chapter I: Arrivo

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	2. Morte

I do not own Fire Emblem or Harry Potter. Fire Emblem belongs to Nintendo and Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. All song lines belong to their original singers. I own all original characters and the plotline.

Chapter II:

Morte

_. . . Let's go back to the beginning, back to when the earth, the sun, the stars all aligned . . .  
-'Come Clean' by Hilary Duff_

Harry's emerald eyes were narrowed almost to slits and his wand hand was steady, the cold of the rain and night unnoticed to him at the moment. He wasn't stupid. He couldn't risk any stupid actions after his rash behavior in June. How could he trust five people who appeared out of nowhere, where some carried weapons, just because they claimed for help? Even if their story did check out, if Uncle Vernon of Aunt Petunia ever found out, he'd be lucky to make it to Hogwarts in September.

The armor-clad boy scowled darkly and Harry was sure, had he not been holding the green-haired girl, he would have grabbed the wicked looking battle-axe at his back. The red haired boy shot him a warning look, a single glare with narrowed eyes, and turned back to Harry with a small and desperate sigh. "We're lost," he said with a pleading note in his odd accented voice.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Any idiot could have figured that out, even Dudley or Crabbe or Goyle.

"How did you get here?" Harry said in the same even voice, one that almost disturbed him from its calm tone. He couldn't be sure if they could apparate, and even if they could it didn't excuse them waltzing into a muggle garden.

The pastel-haired girl moved away from her sibling and whispered something to the fencer, her face concerned and frankly terrified. He sighed again but nodded. She spoke to Harry in a voice that was unlike any he had ever heard. It was soft and sad, yet musical and gentle at the same time. She, like the boy, had an unusual accent, different and stranger even from his. It sounded vaguely familiar to him, like how he had felt about Tom Riddle during his second year.

"Sir," she began, "The Lady Lyndis of Caelin really needs help, she might be seriously injured. May we please just let her rest, even if it is just for the evening?" Again there was a desperate note, a begging quality like a small child for a cookie in her voice that surprised him.

Harry's wand did not move but his right eyebrow rose, looking at the unconscious girl. Blood had spilled from her lips, dripping down her chin with the heavy rain. She certainly did not look like any lady to him, with her rough skin, muscular legs and katana scabbard on her right waist. "Lady Lyndis?" he asked disbelievingly, "_Lady_?"

"Yeah, you know," said the navy haired axe man harshly, teeth clenched, "Lord Hausen's granddaughter and princess of Caelin?" There was a bossy tone to his words, like Hermione's often took during exam week. To Harry, the words sounded more like something taken from a fantasy book, certainly far from the truth.

"Never heard of it," Harry snapped, raising his wand to point directly between the redhead's eyes. His voice was dangerously calm and even, unlike the nervous feeling he really had. "Give me proof you're not Death Eaters." The fencer raised an eyebrow, his face shocked at Harry's words; the pastel-haired siblings exchanged nervous, petrified glances. The axe man ground his teeth furiously and yelled snappishly to Harry's face, the girl shaking in his arms as he bellowed.

"The hell we aren't! Listen kid, she needs help and she needs help NOW! We've been fighting some psychopathic Sage out for our heads for over five hours and you won't let her lie down on a stupid bed! I am Lord Uther's brother, the HEAD of the Lycian Council and if you don't do this one thing for us, you'll have Ostia's fury on you and I swear it!" The fencer sighed again in exasperation.

Harry's already pallid coloring drained of all blood, his grip trembling slightly on his wand. He tried his best to hold it steadier, turning it towards the recent speaker. Somehow he didn't believe it would amount to much, Harry brandishing a thin piece of holly against an armor-clad young man with a double-bladed steel axe at his dispense. He snorted in mocking laughter. "A stick, that's your best defense?"

The jet-haired wizard's fist clenched around it tighter, the skin stretched tightly across the knucklebones of his right hand. "I'm not stupid. How am I supposed to trust people who appear from nowhere, clutching weapons?" he snapped, his voice climbing higher in pitch, "How am I suppose to believe that you aren't Voldemort's supporters who want my head?"

The redhead's hand moved slightly towards the hilt of his rapier, but he seemed to think better of it and flexed his finger midway through the act. His voice was that of weariness and forced peace. "If we wanted your head, wouldn't we have gone after you before now?"

They had a point, and as he thought about it, he couldn't justify his suspicion for them being Death Eaters. It wasn't in Voldemort's style to send such young assailants, especially those with muggle weapons. Even if they were spies, they weren't very good ones and probably little threat to him. Harry lowered his wand with a resigned sigh. "My aunt and uncle won't be happy about this." He stepped aside to let them pass into the kitchen, slipping his wand in the waistband of the jeans he had fallen asleep in, "Please just keep quiet."

"Thank you," said the redhead in a whisper as he and his friends walked in, sending nearly two buckets full of water across Aunt Petunia's prized kitchen floor. Harry shut the door, wincing at the thought of what his foster family would say in response, especially to him – in their eyes the cause. "My room's upstairs, you can lay her there."

"Uh, Hector? Maybe I should take her," said the red haired boy, eyeing his friends' heavy armor. Hector raised an eyebrow and mumbled to himself in response. "You could barely lift her."

Harry bit his lip, knowing he may get in deep trouble for this, but the girl was hurt badly. The blood at her hairline was more visible then when she was in the rain and her breathing was guttural from the blood in her spit. Her face was a blotchy pale like spoiled milk and her chest rose and fell in odd, unhealthy intervals. Harry flicked his wand at the unconscious girl and whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa." She lifted a little from the boy's arms, as though suspended by invisible wires jotting from Harry's wand. The fencer reached, as though by instinct, to his sword, the siblings' fears seemed confirmed and Hector yelled in fright. "The hell . . .!" Dudley snorted upstairs and the sparse hairs on Harry's neck seemed to stand on end like needles.

"Keep your voice down," said the wizard in a frightened whisper, constantly looking up to the landing and moving his wand slowly and gently. The girl moved silently through the air at his magic's command, the other four's surprise fading quickly from their faces. "And keep quiet, please," Harry added as an afterthought, his voice edgy and eyes nervously flickering to the landing once more.

Both green-haired siblings exchanged glances with their ethereal ruby eyes. "Has anyone ever gone after you and your wand?" asked the boy, the first time Harry had heard him speak. His voice was like his sister's, soft and whimsical, thought his lacked the melancholic tone hers possessed.

He didn't know what to say, less he spoil the secret of the magical world. Were these people even muggles? Harry didn't think so somehow. Anybody who looked the way they do – especially the brother and sister with their delicate hair color and gemstone-like eyes – could not have possibly gotten to look that way without the aide of magic. "It's . . . rather common here," muttered Harry, silently walking up the stairs and wondering how much of his words had been true. He winced every time Hector's armor creaked on the stairs and often his emerald gaze flickered to the landing, expecting to see Uncle Vernon's purple face darkening at rage. Harry thanked any higher power that the muggles hadn't woken up yet.

The fencer turned back towards Hector, who had narrowed his eyes in thought, and then to the brother and sister, with their faces monotonic in puzzlement. He sighed heavily for the third time so far and said, to nobody in particular, "We really are lost . . ." Harry kicked his bedroom door soundlessly open, revealing the mess of school text books and parchment piled in teetering stacks around his desk and the sleeping Hedwig in her cage above the wardrobe. Harry hadn't kept it very clean so far this summer, since he'd been too busy brooding over Sirius's death and angry at the Ministry's lack of action towards the progressive killings of muggles in Northern Scotland.

Harry laid Lyn on his bed with a flick of his wand and shut the door as the boy with the blue-green hair entered in, looking intently at the sleeping Hedwig. He turned to the fencer, whose sapphire eyes had found Harry's transfiguration text book. "Now tell me, who are you people?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound too harsh.

"I'm called Ninian," said the red eyed girl, pulling the blanket tighter to her body. Harry raised an eyebrow. "As in, St. Ninian?" He had never been really religious, since the Dursleys thought he might explode if he set foot near a church, but he remembered the name of one saint because Dudley and his friends wouldn't stop talking about their adventures in Sunday school.

She looked puzzled and a faint blush had entered her marble-pale face. "I am no saint, I'm merely a dancer."

"I'm Nils," said the other pastel-haired person energetically, nodding his head, "I'm Ninian's brother." The fencer extended a hand, which Harry shook tentatively. The skin was icy cold from the rain, marred with scars from thin cuts and the palms were rough from calluses. "I'm Eliwood," he said kindly, then gestured towards the unconscious viridian-haired girl, "And this is Lyndis."

"Hector of Ostia," said the tall man with a sort of regal pleasure at the title. Eliwood looked as though he wanted to comment, but again thought better of it. Harry chewed his tongue for a moment and asked a question that had been buzzing in his tired mind since they had mentioned the girl's title.

"Where are these places anyway? I've never heard of Ostia of Caelin."

"Never heard of . . . what do you mean you've never heard of Ostia!" snapped Hector, voice alight with fury and his gauntleted hand reached for the metal hilt of his axe. Harry visibly flinch and grabbed his wand quickly. Ninian's slender hands were shaking as they gripped her brother's shoulders tightly and Eliwood's face was surprisingly slack, as though shock and surprise could not express his feelings.

"Keep your voice down for the last time." Harry said quickly, sounding braver then he felt as he looked into Hector's angry face "Never mind. I'm going to try and find some help for her. By the way, what happened?"

They exchanged looks for a minute and Eliwood, with one hand protectively on the hilt of his rapier, responded in a faulty casual voice. "We were attacked by an Anima Sage. Lady Lyndis was severely hurt, but that seems the worse of the injuries at hand." Harry raised one eyebrow, looking at the redhead's burnt neck and lower face.

"So, those burns on your face don't hurt at all?"

Eliwood blinked for a minute, brought his hand to his neck and winced viciously. "Oh, their not too bad . . ." Ninian frowned darkly. "Milord, those wounds need attention before they worsen." The fencer turned from Harry and to Ninian. "They'll be fine; Lady Lyndis is worse then me." Harry wished he could have some Advil for his growing headache and sat at the end of the bed near the muddy bottoms of Lyndis' boots. "Why do you call her Lady Lyndis?" he asked curiously, looking at the girl's blood-streaked face.

"She's Marquees Caelin's granddaughter," said Eliwood simply, as though stating a very obvious fact. Ninian ran a hand across the leather cover of a discarded transfiguration book. "May I look at this?" she asked politely, picking up the heavy text. Harry nodded carelessly and turned confused emerald eyes to the fencer's sapphire.

"Marquees?"

"Yeah, of Lycia?" put in Hector angrily, his words slow as though speaking to somebody who did not speak normal English. Harry narrowed his eyes.

"You really are lost. How did you even get into my aunt's garden?" Nils was looking over his sister's shoulder as the dancer flipped casually through the parchment pages, her face in awe and, strangely, fear. Harry didn't give the siblings too much attention though, more attention to Eliwood's and Hector's answer.

"We don't know exactly," said the redhead simply after a moment's pause.

"There was a lot of black light after she started spouting mad nonsense and we're suddenly in your aunt's garden without a damn clue," said Hector, a note of finality in his voice. Harry rubbed his temples, wishing Hermione was here. She was better at random, confusing scenarios and their solutions, not him.

"This is hurting my head," the wizard muttered to himself, then turned back to Lyndis's still form. Her face was very pale, her breathing uneven and raspy. He ended up speaking to her body rather then the two conscious warriors in his room. "Look, I'll try and help your friend here, but I'm not healer. I'll have to send a message to a few friends who'll be able to help her instantly when the storm lets out," (he heard one of them sigh in utmost relief), "But you'll probably have to answer a lot of questions and they won't be nice."

"Just make sure Lyndis' alright."

The rain had stopped and Ginny Weasley awoke with a yawn. It was dawn, the flickering gray sky streaked with colors of pale pink and blood red like a skyscraper on an artist's canvas. It was cold outside, and the rain had only recently stopped for many droplets clung to the glass of her windows as she got out of bed with many a yawn and stretch. Judging from the lack of parchment envelopes on her scratched and scared wooden desk, neither Harry nor Luna had yet to return her letters, though she had not been too hopefully. With another yawn, Ginny reached over her bed's headboard for the hairbrush perched on the windowsill next to her romance novels, given as a Christmas present from Hermione. Her hand was on the brush when she stared out the rain washed window and frowned. It looked like two large brown things were in Mrs. Weasley's vegetable garden, enjoying themselves amongst the growing carrots and pea plants. Leaving her hairbrush and her bedroom, Ginny grabbed her dressing gown and pulled on her sneakers.

Walking carefully down the stairs so as not to disturb any of her sleeping relatives, Ginny looked on the second floor landing and saw her parent's bedroom door was opened and her mother's soft snoring was filling the hallway. While Mrs. Molly Weasley was in her bed, sleeping with a tired frown on her aged face, Arthur Weasley was notably absent. Ginny chewed her bottom lip from sadness, wondering how her mother felt about the accommodations. Every ministry worker – including her father, who had never before been assigned an offensive position – was busy almost all the time and gone from her holiday. She never see her dad now and had to focus hard to remember what his smiling face looked like.

The stone floor of the kitchen was like ice to Ginny's feet, her sneaker's thin soles giving little more then support. It was deserted apart from a slumbering Errol and Ron's potions books, which Mrs. Weasley had been going over with her last night as preparation for her fifth year and OWLs. Her freedom was short lived, for she had barely selected an apple from the bowl on the table when Ron came down the steps, yawning and stretching his long limbs.

"G'morning Gin," he said sleepily, taking a second apple and rubbing it on the tablecloth. Ginny raised an eyebrow at his behavior and waited until he had done chewing the large bite of apple he had just taken in.

"Hey Ron, did you see what's outside in the garden?"

He blinked. "Outside? In this weather? Come on Gin, that's not funny. It was storming really bad last night; nothing would be outside so soon." She narrowed her chocolate colored eyes at him and turned towards the doorway, pushing it open with her foot and leaving Ron in the kitchen. The wet grass on the yard was springy, like a cushion and she raised her eyebrows as she spotted the two horses that were in the garden, munching on the carrots. "Nothing out there, 'eh?" asked Ginny sarcastically as Ron stuck his head out of the back door, following her finger to the duel stallions.

"What the . . .?" he muttered, throwing aside his half-eaten apple and climbing onto the slippery grass in his bare feet.

Both Weasley children approached the horses with caution, Ginny wondering if they were some sort of magical creature. The stallions had sleek, chestnut coats – one with splotches of white around the muzzle and neck – and wore a saddle with the same seal on it in rich thread of red, gold and white, putting her in mind of the sun for odd reasons. The seal itself showed a lance with a rose wrapped around the pole, the entire insignia surrounded by a serpent.

"What the . . .? Where did they come from?" said Ron as Ginny examined the horses, rubbing one's – the white spotted one – muzzle gently. "Whoever they belong to, they're well trained," she mused, giggling when the horse nuzzled her neck playfully, nibbling at her ginger hair.

"Hey Gin, come look at this." She turned over to her brother, who was standing in front of a long double trail. Hoof prints lead from where they currently stood to the bottom of the hill and the enclosure of trees where the Weasley boys often played Quidditch. The two of them exchanged nervous looks, a single nod and walked down the hill. The grass was slippery and slightly dangerous. The slope was even more unsettling edgy if one was in bare feet. Unsurprisingly, Ginny watched as Ron fell down the hill when he slipped on a rock.

"Git," she giggled, sliding gracefully down the hill as Ron got clumsily to his feet. Her eyes left her brother and widened in shock as they fell upon the grass little more then three or four feet away from their current position. Five unconscious figures lay at the beginning of the enclosure and one of (a young man in emerald armor with dusty brown hair) looked disturbingly pale from lack of life.

"Gin, you got get Mum. I'll . . ." Ron never finished his sentence.

One of the members of the unconscious group, a girl about Ginny's age, stirred and sat up slowly. Both hurried over in time to see the girl's large eyes open in misted confusion and tiredness. She was an odd looking girl, with dark green hair tied back in two braids on either side of her face beneath an olive colored bandana. Her clothing was most peculiar, reminiscent of medieval attire complete with a quiver of arrows and a bow made from bright silver material. She looked around and spotted the two of them.

"W-Where am I? Where's Lord Eliwood?" Her voice was innocent and slightly high pitched, though accented very strangely in Ginny's opinion. It was a strange mix of her native British and the American tongue she had heard some people use at the World Cup the previous summer.

"And who the bloody hell are you?" said Ron, remarkably cold. Ginny gave him a surprised look, wondering why he was so hard on the poor girl.

"Rebecca," she said, looking at the three other people, her eyes growing even wider then their already doe-like property. "St. Elimine's grace!" She stumbled for a minute and threw herself down by the emerald-clad boy, shaking him furiously so that his head flung from side to side. "Sain! Sain, you idiot, don't do this!"

"Gin, go get help!" Ron snapped in a very bossy tone. He himself knelt down and shook awake a young man with copper-orange hair and tanned skin, who wore armor like the other man's, except in rusty red. Unlike the brunette, he had a sword sheath at his side with the hilt of an impressive golden sword revealed, white wire wrapped around the hilt itself. The young man (Ginny was tempted to call him a knight) blinked, moaned and sat up. "Where are we?" he asked, or demanded really, with a gloved hand quickly fleeing towards the elaborate hilt of a clearly more elaborate sword. His voice was like Rebecca's in terms of accent, but in dialect it sounded too mature for somebody of barely nineteen, maybe twenty at most.

"Don't know about that, but it looks like your friend's in trouble." He pointed at Sain, and the man's eyes – a coppery color so similar to his hair it was unnerving – widened furiously. "Sain?" He quickly joined Rebecca's side and grabbed his friend's chin, examining the youthful face very carefully.

He could only have been in his late teens, with an angular structure and slightly curved eyebrows, and pale brown hair splattered flat to his head from water. Ginny assumed it would be a few shades lighter when dry. His skin, however, was an extremely unhealthy translucent pale color except around his lips, which were tinged with cobalt. Rebecca, whose breathing was harsh and quick, pressed two fingers to various places on his neck as if searching for something. Her face paled even more and her bottom lip trembled horribly. She only spoke a few words before the tears started to pour freely from her dark green eyes.

"There's no pulse . . ."

End Chapter II: Morte

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	3. Credenza

I do not own Fire Emblem or Harry Potter. Fire Emblem belongs to Nintendo and Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. All song lines belong to their original singers. I own all original characters and the plotline.

Chapter III:

Credenza

_. . . We are one, the moon and sun, it's so magical, you'll see . . .  
-'So Magical' by ATC_

Ron felt numb for a minute, watching as Rebecca furiously shake the viridian-clad young man, as though force might somehow bring him back to life. He turned to see Ginny and his mother hurrying down the hill. He hadn't realized Ginny had left his side and felt glad for a moment that his mother was here. Mrs. Weasley's wand was clutched tightly in her left hand and her lavender dressing gown was whipping around her slipper-clad feet.

"Great heavens above, what happened to him?" wheezed Mrs. Weasley, kneeling down by Sain and taking his head gently in her own. The plump witch didn't seem to care at the moment how five people – four of whom had lethal looking weapons – had wandered onto her property, her attention completely focused on the pale cadaver below her.

"He drowned ma'am," said Rebecca in a monotone, then her eyes filled with more tears and she buried her face in the green scarf tied around her waist. The other man was marble pale, his fists clenched and looked almost on the verge of tears as well, looking in a sort of disbelieving horror at his friend's body. It was the sort of look Harry had had after the Triwizard Tournament and Cedric's death.

Mrs. Weasley gripped his other wrist and checked her watch. She breathed in deep relief and turned back to the hysterical Rebecca. "There's barely a pulse, but your friend's still alive." The swordsman's face brightened instantly and Rebecca's glistening eyes had hope in them once more. The hope quickly left though.

"But I just checked his neck and . . ."

"It's faint, but it's there." Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at his chest and spoke the name of the spell quickly. "Ennervate."

Sain's eyes – with gray-brown irises and bloodshot sclera – opened with rapid blinks, he turned over and coughed, spitting out a ton of water onto the ground. It really did seem like he had almost drowned, which was odd considering there wasn't any big lake or river near the Burrow. Breathing heavily, he sat up and looked at everyone with mild confusion. "Why Rebecca!" he said suddenly, his voice childish despite his age, "Why do you have such a sad look on your beautiful face?"

The red haired swordsman sighed in relaxation and smiled, kneeling down to his friend into a brotherly hug. Sain blinked rapidly, though Ron couldn't tell if it was from his stinging eyes or surprise. "Kent?" he asked slowly as though scared.

"You idiot, don't ever do that again!" bellowed Rebecca, anger written on her face as she hit him on the back of the head, "Do you know how WORRIED I was?"

Sain looked around, found Ginny's skinny form and got to his feet, clutching her hands in his. His face was still pale but split into a delighted smile. Ginny blinked in puzzlement and Sain spoke quickly. For somebody who had been so close "Fair maiden! Your beauty is unmatched by any I have ever seen before . . ."

"Get your mitts of my sister!" snapped Ron, only to deceive a death glare from both his mother and his sister.

"Sorry miss," said Kent with a sigh, pulling his friend away from Ginny and giving him a sharp glare. Sain merely gave an innocent grin. "Thank you very much for helping him ma'am," he said with a regal tone to Mrs. Weasley, bowing his head, "We're in your dept."

"Oh it's no trouble," said Mrs. Weasley, "But if I may ask, how did you end up like that? There isn't any major source of water for miles. And . . . who exactly are you?"

The two men exchanged glares as Rebecca shook awake the other two unconscious people, both of whom were male. One – another archer with auburn hair – was about as water drenched as Sain, and the shorter one had a deep cut along his right arm. He was clutching two items in his right hand, a thick leather tome with a reddish-brown cover and a long golden staff with a ruby orb perched atop it, items that made Ginny stiffen in remembrance of what muggles thought of witches and wizards. Both, when conscious, stared around in confusion, the male archer coughing up water as well.

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat, bringing their attention back to her. "Your names, please?" she asked as kindly as she could.

"I'm Kent and this is my partner Sain. We're Lycian Knights."

"Rebecca of Pherae," said the green-haired girl kindly. Ron noticed her eyes were still red and bloodshot from her crying spell.

The auburn haired archer stood, pushing his dripping bangs away from his dark brown eyes. He was clearly confused by the arrangements, but took one look at Rebecca and answered his name in a cheery voice still with slight childhood innocence and an odd accent that was shared by the other four. "I'm, uh, Wil. Nice to meet you?"

The violet haired young man, who was clad in brandy and deep indigo robes, stood and looked from each of the three Weasleys and to the tome slipping from his hand. He seemed relived by the book's presence, more then the staff. "I'm called Erk," he said politely, his voice different from the others'. It had a lighter accent, a more formal tone to it and a knowledgeable edge that Hermione's took during study sessions in the library.

Mrs. Weasley chewed her bottom lip for a minute and smiled, slipping her wand in the pocket of her dressing gown. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Molly Weasley and these are Ron and Ginny, my son and daughter." Both Weasley children smiled, though it was only out of manners. Ron seemed taken aback by their sudden arrival and Sain's revival, Ginny slightly embarrassed by Sain's flirtatious compliments. They nodded their heads in respect and the Weasley matron smiled again. "How about some food? It's just in time for breakfast."

Back in the kitchen, now filled with early morning sunshine, Erk ran a hand across the leather bound albums on the kitchen shelf as Mrs. Weasley bustled about with her wand, cooking for the eight in her kitchen. He seemed particular interested in her wand, his violet eyes following her left hand everywhere it went. It was slightly unnerving. "Do you focus all your magic through that little wand?" he asked, interested, thumbing through the tome inattentively.

Mrs. Weasley looked at the yew wand, pale blush of embarrassment entering her cheeks and turned to him. Her eyes were frightened, from the fear she had just disclosed the secrets of the Wizarding world to a muggle. "Yes. Aren't . . . are you a wizard? That spell book of yours looks like anything else on that shelf." Erk looked lazily at the leather book in his hand.

"I'm a Sage ma'am, so I suppose I might be a wizard."

The red haired woman frowned darkly, looking intently at the Eturian's thin face and pale skin. "Aren't you a little young?" She, of course, was thinking of the Wizarding sages, like Albus Dumbledore and Merlin, and though the boy may have looked the part – draped in richly tailored robes and clutching an exquisite staff and spell book – he did not fit her personal description.

He blinked, arching an eyebrow. "Begging your pardon ma'am, I am considered by my mentor a Sage."

She frowned again, turning back to the cooking eggs upon the stovetop. "How about your friends? They're wizards, right?" She looked to where Ron was playing chess with Kent in the living room, the others surrounding the two players.

He shook his head slowly. She gave him a scandalized look, wondering if the Ministry was going to come in at any moment to strip her of her wand and magic. "They're muggles?" she said worriedly, throwing another glance towards the living room.

"What's a 'muggle'?"

"Never mind, they know about magic right?" He nodded slowly again and she breathed in relief, returning to her cooking. "No harm done," she said to herself.

Rebecca was sitting cross-legged on the couch next to Wil, looking nervous and not focusing on how Ron was losing poorly at the one game he was considered the champion at. "So, um, where are we exactly miss?" she asked to Ginny, who was trying not to giggle at her brother's incompetence. The witch turned towards the Pherean girl, tucking a lock of her copper hair behind her ear.

"Well, the question really is where you're from, since we haven't had any knights in England for a long time. At least, not knights who carried swords or lances . . ." Her voice trailed off, unsure of how to finish accurately.

Sain and Kent exchanged looks, identical surprise on their faces. Wil conked an eyebrow up, looking very funny as he did so. He had picked up the habit from Nils, using it mainly if something really bothered or confused him. "That's . . . really strange. What country is this?"

"England," said Ron slowly, enunciating the word to unnecessary levels. Ginny would have hit him on any other occasion.

"Impossible," put in Erk from the kitchen, making Ron and Ginny jump. The others were already used to the Sage's surprising interjections into conversation. "There's no country on Elibe called England. No providence either."

"There's other continents, book worm," said Rebecca dryly. It was an insult she often used, she herself being near illiterate. Ron sniggered, causing both his mother and Erk to give him death glares, Erk's irises tinged with his fire magic.

"Umm . . ." said Ginny softly, breaking the silence that followed Rebecca's words and catching everyone's attention, "This isn't making much sense. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will be able to sort this out."

"Who's this professor?" asked Sain, lifting up Kent's queen and examining the scratched female figure with the peeling white paint. Ron had decided to play muggle chess instead of wizards, wanting to beat Hermione at her own game. All three Weasleys shot Sain a nervous look. He blinked, setting down the chess figure slowly. "Did I say something wrong?" he said meekly, making his fellow knight roll his eyes.

"No," said Mrs. Weasley with a cheery smile, "For now, enjoy some breakfast. There's plenty of food, come help yourself."

Lyn moaned in agony, clutching the side of her head as her mind swirled in nausea and illness. The back of her head ached horribly from where it had collided with the wall, the coppery taste of blood largely pleasant in her mouth. Wrapped around her forehead were linen wrappings, proving her injury was worse then previously expected. Someone shook her roughly and she heard Hector's hard voice speak loudly, only making her face split into a grimace of pain. "Don't ever scare me like that, you Sacean!"

She opened her eyes to stare into Hector's blurry, yet angry face. Her grimace split into a smile as she pushed herself up, ignoring the ache of pain lingering in her body. "You need to loosen up a little," she said, jerking out of his reach though her dark green eyes glittered in mirth.

"Are you okay milady?" It was Nils. Lyn looked around the room she was in, frowning at its unfamiliar-ness. They (being herself, Hector, Eliwood and the two ruby-eyed siblings) were in a small room that looked as though it belonged to a Mage, judging from how those in their army kept their belongings. A very untidy Mage, and that was certainly saying something. Large piles of books and blank parchment surrounded the bed and desk, a large trunk at the foot of the bed she was laying upon and a odd looking items were present on the bedside table. A black haired boy Lyn had never seen before was sitting at a desk, looking tired and writing something on parchment with his chin on the edge of the table. Her voice conveyed her confusion and made the strange boy jump, his skin going paler then its already albino-like color. "Where are we?"

"We don't know milady," said Eliwood with a sigh. Lyn's eyes flickered immediately to his burnt neck and chin, his wrapped right arm and drenched clothing. From the way his fire-red hair was pressed against his head, it made him look like a drowned animal. "We were worried, you wouldn't wake -"

Ninian's voice was cut off as the sound of something tapping on the wet window panes caught their attention. The black haired boy looked up and opened the window, letting in drops of rain and a very wet, snow-white owl. The boy (Lyn would set him about thirteen or fourteen) untied the wet envelope attached to its talon and shook the parchment to rid it of excess moisture.

"Messenger bird?" she asked innocently, watching as the owl ruffled its white feathers and began to prune her left wing.

"Yeah," he ripped open the envelope and scanned the letter quickly, his brow furrowing. "Hey, do you know anyone by these names? Guy, Matthew, Serra, Raven or Priscilla?" Lyn's eyes narrowed, the boy's odd accent reaching her attention for the first time. She had never heard any accent like it; even Ninian and Nils' strange dialect was unlike this boy's.

"Yeah, they're more of our companions. Who sent the letter?" said Eliwood, surprised and relieved at the same time. It was an interesting combination.

"My friend Hermione sent this. She says she found them unconscious in her yard and they've been asking for you three. Or at least, the two conscious ones are . . ." The boy left the ominous words hanging, bringing a bit of annoyance to her ears.

"Where does your friend live?" asked Ninian, pulling what looked like Eliwood's cape closer towards her.

"I dunno. Hang on." From a pile on his desk, he pulled an unopened letter and read it quickly with widening emerald eyes. The boy's eyes were interesting, slanted and cat-like with such vibrant bright green irises it was unnerving. The irises, however, were darkened with something, perhaps sorrow or grief or anger. Those eyes were near captivating, mysterious and haunting, like the ruby orbs of Ninian and Nils. The boy continued, jerking Lyn back into reality. "But you'll probably find out. Tonks and Professor Lupin - they're two, err, friends of mine- are coming today."

"Why?" Eliwood asked suspiciously, wincing as he sharply turned his head towards the boy.

"They're taking me to London. That's the capital of the country. So, looks like you're getting your questions answered soon." There was a sort of sarcastic pleasure in his voice.

Someone rapped hard on the bedroom door, making everyone in the room jump and turn. A man's harsh voice spoke on the other side of the door, a voice of the unpleasant sort. "Boy! Who in God's name are you talking about in there!"

He paled considerably, his face a sickly sort of whitish-gray color. "My uncle," he mumbled as a sort of explanation.

Lyn knew not to ask, just to be kind and respectful towards his privacy. She sat still on his bed as he walked to the door and pulled it open enough for her to get a glimpse of a very fat man with a bushy moustache and purple face. "I'm talking to myself," he said in a monotone, making her look at the boy again in shock. His voice was so empty, so cold, especially for somebody so young.

"Freak!" barked the man and he walked away. The boy shut the door and walked back to his desk as though the activity had been as simple as saying hello to a peasant.

"That's your uncle?" asked Ninian softly, a little surprise in her voice, "Unpleasant isn't he?"

The boy snorted in black laughter, his eyes narrowing as he looked to the ceiling. "That doesn't begin to describe him . . ." he trailed off at the end, turning to the white owl and stroking her wings. Lyn watched him for a minute, and then turned towards Eliwood with a raised eyebrow. The Pherean lord merely shook his wet head and mouthed 'later'.

A scream echoed from downstairs, a woman's, and on instinct her hand flickered towards the Mani Katti. The boy smiled darkly and stood, walking swiftly towards the door again. He had an odd sort of walk, sort of quick yet slouchy. "Looks like my friends are here. You guys just stay here, I guess."

As soon as he was out of the room and shut the door with a snap, Nils turned to Lyn. He was dripping wet as well, though seemingly unaffected by the cold. "What do you think, milady?" he asked softly, "About Harry?"

Lyn smiled slightly and stood, ignoring the sharp glare from Hector. "How many times do I have to tell you? Please, just call me Lyn or Lyndis."

"Okay then, what do you think Lyn?" asked Eliwood with a small smile.

Lyn swallowed another bit of blood that had gathered in her mouth. "Well, I've been out cold this whole time. So, I take it that Sonia sent us somewhere and this kid found us."

Hector nodded, his expression darkening. "Yeah. Get this though. The kid's never heard of Ostia OR Caelin and threatened us with a wooden stick." He gave a snort of mirthless laughter.

She frowned, finding no humor in the situation. "Well, there are other continents in the world. That's what Sonia could have meant, couldn't it? 'I'll erase you from Elibe.' For all we know, we could be on the otherside of the world." The theory didn't seem to sit too well with her companions. It didn't comfort her either, but it seemed to be the only logical idea so far.

"But why would she just send us to another continent?" asked Ninian, taking the seat Harry had recently abandoned, "It might take a while, but we could just take a ship back to Elibe." The Sacean's olive eyes turned to leather book clutched in the dancer's hands.

"What's the tome?"

Surprise flickered across both sibling's faces and Ninian thumbed the book open to the center. "It's . . . some sort of tome with transmutation magic. Shapeshifting of humans and animals . . ." Lyn's eyes widened and the two Lycian lords turned to the dancer, Hector grabbing the book and flicking through the pages.

"Amazing . . . But if Nergal or Sonia got their hands on this kind of magic –" Hector's musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. It opened to reveal a man who, despite a young age, had graying brown hair. His prematurely lined face was sickly pale, like Harry's, his wolf-gray eyes flecked with amber and gentle. Ninian and Nils seemed to recoil slightly at the man, though for reasons Lyn didn't understand. "So, you're the ones Harry told us about." His voice was tired and aged, yet kind.

Eliwood stood, extending a hand and bowing his head in respect. "Pleased to meet you sir. I'm Eliwood of Pherae."

"Remus Lupin." He shook the hand, "So, you're a bit lost, aren't you? Can you tell me a little about where you're from, since Harry really, erm, hasn't given enough information to go on?" There was something about the way Lupin had slipped his hands into the pockets of his onyx robes that made Lyn believe there was a dagger or weapon inside.

"The country Lycia," said Eliwood simply. When Lupin looked puzzled, the Pherean fencer went on with slight desperation. "On Elibe? The continent?"

Comprehension finally seemed to dawn on Lupin and Lyn gave a mental sigh of relief. "As in, the continent with the Scouring war 1,000 years ago?"

Lyn nodded and Ninian replied, twirling her magical rings. "It was actually 980 years ago . . ."

Lupin didn't seem to hear her but spoke back to Eliwood, weariness back in his voice. "You'll need to talk to Dumbledore." From the way the man's name was spoken, Lyn's mind flickered back to the image of Archsage Athos.

"Who's that?" asked Hector bluntly. Lupin gave a small smile. "He's a very powerful and wise man. He'll be able to explain this."

"Do you know what may have happened to our companions?" asked Hector suddenly, "We were with about thirty other people." The number seemed to shock Lupin and he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, I wouldn't know."

"So, for all we know, Sonia could have only sent us?" said Nils softly and his sister looked at him rather sadly.

"That can't be right. Knowing what she would do, we could be the only ones still . . ."

"Please don't finish that sentence Ninian."

End Chapter III: Credenza

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	4. Timore

I do not own Fire Emblem or Harry Potter. Fire Emblem belongs to Nintendo and Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. All song lines belong to their original singers. I own all original characters and the plotline.

Chapter IV:

Timore  
_  
. . . You'd better quit what your doin' and look out for us . . .  
-'Rockin' by ATeens_

Dark aqua-blue eyes opened in weariness and slight mental pain. Commander Fiora of Ilia's fifth wing of Pegasus Knights clutched her aching head and looked around at her surroundings as she stood. Her spear was next to her, inches from her navy-clad fingertips, and her unconscious Pegasus Dea lay on the ground a few feet away from her, wings folded to her marble flanks. Florina's Pegasus Huey and Heath's Wyvern Hyperion were there as well, as were their fallen mistress and master. Rath's horse, the warm brown coat still damp from its spell in the water, was there and the Sacean nomad lay next to Hawkeye, whose large hand still gripped the broad hilt of his massive axe. The other four soldiers were out cold still.

Fiora, relieved to see she was not alone, got quickly to her feet and examined their surroundings with distaste. They were in a vast field between a huge lake and an even larger forest whose trees loomed overhead. The grass was wet and springy from fresh rainfall and shadowed by the immense castle next to them, reminiscent of Castle Bern. Fiora grabbed her spear quickly, pleased to wrap her fingers around the stiff Ilian wood. The spearhead was dull from where it had hit Sonia's barrier, though it was nothing a few minutes of sharpening couldn't cure. She sighed and slid it back into its sheath on Dea's saddle, rubbing the Pegasus' muzzle gently. Her eyes, a liquid fire-red, opened and she stood, flexing her massive and angelic wings.

Fiora cooed softly to the Pegasus, then knelt down by her orchid haired sibling and gently shook Florina to rouse her. "Sister? Florina, please wake up." Her sibling's baby blue eyes blinked open and she sat up jerkily, grabbing the Killer Lance on her back. "Fiora? Fiora, what happened? Lady Lyndis, is she alright?"

Fiora bit her lip and helped her sister up, brushing off Florina's shoulders and hugging her for a minute, pleased to see she was safe from harm. "I don't know where our Lady Commander is Florina. We're not anywhere near the Water Temple, but I assume we're still in Bern. Sonia's magic must haven sent our group in separate pieces. Now it's just you, Heath, Rath, Hawkeye and me."

Florina went scarlet and clutched her elder sister's arm very tightly, her long nails painfully digging into Fiora's skin. "Y-You're the only other female?" she squeaked. From the time the two had spent under the command of Lady Firefly – the tactician of Eliwood's soldiers – Florina hadn't seemed so gender-specific, but in light of the events, her fear of men had returned. Fiora clapped her hands again on her sister's shoulders, looking deep into Florina's doe-like eyes.

"Florina, stay strong. We have to see if there's anyway we can find Lord Eliwood and Lady Lyndis and Lord Hector. For now, we have to deal with the situation on hand and that is helping our commerades, understand?" Florina nodded meekly, eyes glittering at the tear ducts. Fiora sighed and looked down at their fellows. "Poor Rath, he looks the worse after his swim." The Sacean was drenched in water, his normally expressionless face weary from the battle. He would be fine though, she had seen the way he fought and acted and knew a little bit of water couldn't harm him. Fiora instead shook Heath awake, making the Wyvern Rider's head loll from side to side until he mumbled under his breath.

"Please mother, just ten more minutes of sleep . . ." He yawned and turned over, giving a soft snore. It was unusual for him to act this way and she shook him harder.

"Heath, I'm not your mother. I'm Fiora." His silver-blue eyes, eyes which had always slightly unnerved her, opened wide as he sat up and rubbed the back of his head. "Fiora? Fiora, what happened! Did we win?" he asked excitedly, then caught a glimpse of their surroundings.

"No we didn't win, and I'm not sure where we are. To make matters worse, there's only five of us and none of our commanding officers." 

Florina, her body trembling with nerves, was shaking the Nomad awake. She screamed when his gloved hand reached up suddenly to grab her wrist, his eyes snapping open at once. He let go of her wrist with apologies, though he reached for the quiver of arrows at his side. "Where's Lyn?" he asked sharply.

"I don't know," said Florina in a high, scared voice, running over to grasp Fiora's arm tightly again. The commander winced slightly.

When roused by Heath, Hawkeye simply looked around the area, his brow furrowed and hand on his massive and well-worn axe. "Impossible."

All eyes turned to him, Rath's ever vigilant eyes leaving his mare and saber to look at the desert man in puzzlement. "What?" asked Fiora, the only one to summon speech.

"Lord Athos mentioned a castle such as this, surrounding by lake and wood and an aura of unsettling serenity. During the Scouring there was trading going on between Elibe and . . . another world in another universe."

There was silence for a long time. Florina's already pallid coloring had turned to milk white shock, Fiora opening and closing her mouth as her mind fought for words to express her shock and disbelief. Rath, even with his seemingly apathetic look, had widened his Sacean-green eyes in pure befuddlement and his jaw had dropped. Heath was the only one to speak, practically bellowing in his disbelief and "Your joking!" yelled Heath, "You mean we're in some mirror dimension!?"

"No." Hawkeye's voice was cold and distant, as it often was when speaking to others. "According to Lord Athos, this place is merely an alternate world. Not like a mirror world, where everything on Elibe is reflected, but there are . . . significant similarities."

"Such as?" Rath said harshly, his hand gripping his iron saber with white-knuckles.

"Dragons," said Hawkeye simply, though here his voice was whispered and slightly edged with fear.

Florina was shaking badly, her face draining rapidly of all blood and she looked like she was about to faint. Fiora held her tightly, as she always had done when her sister had been younger and suffered from nightmares, though in her heart she too was afraid. Heath, gulping down warm saliva, repeated in a hoarse voice, "Dragons?"

"Yes." Fiora envied how calm the blonde man could sound. "Though, as far as my knowledge goes, they are no where near as intelligent as the ones we fought in the Scouring. Humans control dragons here, like you control your mounts, but they were powerful." Heath's ethereal eyes looked at his slumbering Wyvern, with its distinct dragon-like qualities. Hawkeye continued to speak. "The trade routes between worlds were cut off when Dragons left Elibe, as though the connection had been between them. Apparently it seems Nergal found a way to reestablish those routes through his morphs' magic, though it think it was more on accident."

"How are we going to get back though?" asked Rath, his voice once again devoid of most emotion, "Back to Elibe?"

". . . Let's concern ourselves with finding the rest of our party. If this other world has anything worse then Nergal, then Ninian and Nils are in deep danger." Fiora frowned, not understanding why it was merely the dancer and bard who were in danger. It was not her place to question his reasoning however and she nodded her head.

Heath went to his Wyvern's side, pushing Hyperion's triangular head to stir the winged beast. "We can search the skies for any signs of our fellows." Florina nodded to, swallowing heavily and trying to look brave. Fiora went to Dea and her spear.

Their preparations were cut off sharply as a man's calm, aged voice cut through the air, surprising them all. "I don't think that's needed."

Fiora's hand flew to her spear in Dea's saddle and she saw Rath draw his sword quick as lightning. Behind them was the speaker; man who looked both very old and very wise. Draped in long, sweeping robes of deep crimson and gold with his long white hair and beard, he put Fiora in mind of the Archsage. He had glittering blue eyes behind half moon spectacles, eyes showing the weariness of age and maturity, and a crooked nose that looked to have been broken many, many times. What surprised her the most was how he appeared to have just come from nowhere, with no traces of the static electricity that Ephidel had left when he teleported at the Dragon's Gate. It was like he had just materialized out of thin air.

"Who are you sir?" asked Fiora, the grip on her spear never wavering. Though this man had an aura of peace and calm surrounding him, she would not let herself be fooled into losing more of her fellow soldiers, as had happened on the shores of Valor.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore," his bony hands gestured to the castle behind them all, "Owner of the estate. I am sorry to have been eavesdropping on your conversation, but I believe I have information on where your friends may be."

"Where and which ones?" said Rath sharply, his grip firmly on the leather-wrapped hilt of his Sacean saber. His concern was focused completely on the well-being of Lady Lyndis, the only one out of the entire army that he seemed content to be around.

The man styling himself as Dumbledore reached into the pocket of his robes and handed Hawkeye a piece of folded parchment, stamped shut with a purple seal. The Beserker read it quickly, his face still expressionless. "It's the Black Fang members, plus Lady Isadora and Brother Lucius."

"Nino and Legault?" asked Florina, her voice surprisingly even.

"And Jaffar," finished Hawkeye, reminding them all of the dark-skinned man.

Although Fiora had no sympathy for the Black Fang, from their murderous actions and slaughter of her entire fleet, she knew Nino was a kind girl who had been used and Legault had traveled with them long enough to prove he was of good intent. Jaffar, though, had yet to prove to her that Sonia and Nergal no longer held his loyalty.

"Well, how about any others? Lord Eliwood, Lady Lyndis, Lord Hector or even Lady Firefly?" asked Heath, Hyperion's massive head arched over his rider's.

"I'm sorry, I have no knowledge of any others," said Dumbledore, "Though intelligence will probably reach soon if they are in the country."

"So, maybe they're still on Elibe?" Florina's voice was scared again and it was clear that she wanted to know where Lyn was.

"Doubt it," said Fiora, as a way of soothing her sister and assuring herself that their commanders were within reach.

"In the meantime, would you like residence in this castle? We have plenty of room." Dumbledore's voice was casual, but there was something about it that made Fiora examine his face closely.

"What about Hyperion?" asked Heath, "And Dea and Huey and Woodfall?"

The man's eyes flickered towards the Wyvern, who was crouched by his master, crimson eyes nervous, then towards the two Pegasi and mare.

"Is that a dragon?" asked the man calmly. That one sentence confirmed Fiora's suspicion that they weren't on Elibe. Anybody who could mistake a Wyvern for a Dragon was certainly not of their native land.

Heath seemed equally resigned to the connection and corrected Dumbledore. "Hyperion's a Wyvern sir."

"Well, our groundskeeper has a rather . . . unusual affection for strange creatures. Your Pegasi and horse will be welcomed too, we have the room."

Fiora bowed her head and Hawkeye spoke in his even voice again. "Thank you for your hospitality, is there anything we could do to make it up to you?"

"I'm sorry if I sound desperate and rude, but your service." At the strange looks the man was receiving, Dumbledore elaborated, "Our country is at the beginning of a war against something we have not faced for over fifteen years, and you have the look of talented fighters. Could I employ you as . . . bodyguards?"

"To whom?" asked Rath slowly. The Sacean had been a bodyguard before, she had overheard him mention it to Firefly one night, but he probably wanted as much information about his charge as possible.

"A young boy who is the main target for the enemy. Harry is, rather difficult to watch, since he has a fetish for getting himself in trouble."

"A prince?" asked Rath again and Dumbledore shook his head. "No, just a very talented young man with quite a lot of dangerous people after him. My previous methods of protecting the boy have proved . . . unsuccessful."

"Y-Yes sir, we w-will except this gladly," stuttered Florina, her face still pale from shock and slight nausea, but she had stopped trembling in her sister's arms.

Dumbledore smiled and bowed his head in respect and thanks. "Something else, and please do forgive me if I am sounding demanding. This castle is a school, for young witches and wizards."

"Like Eturian mages?" put in Heath and Fiora hid a smile. He was not particularly trained against magic, since so few magic-users took homes in Bern, and he wasn't exactly on the best terms with the few Mages in the army.

"I'm unfamiliar with the Mages you might be familiar with, but they do cast magic and spells and the like. We are in desperate need of a new teacher, one for defense specifically. Could you please assist in this position? You could tell our students about this land of yours, and perhaps battle tactics and the like."

Fiora exchanged looks with her companions. Florina had always been good with children, regardless of their gender, and they seemed to comfort her the most in times of need, though Rath was not exactly looking pleased at the idea. It was an odd picture to see him try and teach somebody, and Heath's thoughts were hard to place. Regardless, Hawkeye extended a hand and the professor shook it.

"Thank you very, very much," said Dumbledore and his voice was so sincere Fiora stared at him as he walked back towards the castle.

Nino Reed shuddered viciously under the piercing, electric blue eye of the strange man. Part of her trembling was from fear of this heavily scared man, and part was from the icy water that dripped around her body and made her clothing cling tightly to her body. Jaffar stood protectively over her, eyes and face as emotionless as ever. Despite the confiscation of his daggers, he was a formidable opponent still. What confused her slightly was why their antagonists were not yet dead, or at least acting like they were in power over the Angel of Death.

They and three others were in a square in front of several grimy looking homes whose style Nino had never seen before, and she had seen a lot of interesting looking buildings in her fourteen years. She was wrapped in Legault's cloak, the course navy and indigo material warming her considerably, though the air about them was not the most heated. The thief's own knife had been taken by these people, Dame Isadora's sword and lance also gone. The Lady Knight stood next to her white horse, gauntleted hands gripping Danica's reigns very tightly. These people had also confiscated Lucius's staff, but neither his nor her magical tomes.

Easily she or Lucius could have knocked them unconscious but she was refrained from attacking by her own desire to know where she was and who these people were, who had disarmed three talented people with a wave of their short wooden wands. For Lucius, he was probably not attacking from the priest's code for St. Elimine: Never attack those who do not pose a threat at once. It seemed a little silly to Nino, but she had to honor the young man's loyalty to his church.

"Sir, we mean no harm! We are just lost!" began Lucius for the umpteenth time before having one of another one of their stick-like weapons being pointed at him by an elderly woman with flashing emerald eyes. She was dressed in a long black dress fashioned in the style of Bern's nobility with an opal brooch at her neck, holding her emerald cloak in place and a tall pointed hat with peacock feathers tucked in it.

"We have no way of proving that until Severus returns with the Veritaserum," she said icily, her foreign accent strange to Nino. Her voice otherwise was very harsh and apathetic, strict like Brendon Reed's had always been when addressing his troops.

Isadora looked the woman in the eye, the lady knight unflinching and seemingly unafraid. "Miss, please, we are simply travelers with no idea where we are-" She was cut off by the other of their assailants, whose hard voice was accented identically to the woman. He wore black robes, like a shaman and made Nino think of Brendan Reed by all the scars on his face and grizzled hands.

"Why are we waiting for Snape to show up? Just use the Imperious curse on them," growled the man, "We could get information out then." The woman gave him a cold look and hissed behind clenched teeth. "You know that's illegal Moody."

"And not necessary Alastor."

Nino turned on the heels of her blue boots to see an old man walk towards them, a man who had seemingly appeared from nowhere. He looked very old and wise, dressed in rich robes like a king or high Sage. Jaffar tensed, one of his hands gripping Nino's shoulder tightly. His already narrow eyes were barely slits, scaring her slightly. Legault eyed the man's robes, probably looking for any potential weapons, and finding no bulges he relaxed slightly.

"Albus, what do you mean?" asked the woman, "These people are clearly Death Eaters. They're armed," she gestured her head towards the pile of weapons. It was quite an impressive sum really. "And were trying to get into the homes."

"We weren't –" began Lucius only to have the shorter man's wand point between his eyes. The Sage continued speaking, his voice so calm and collective that it made Nino slightly jealous. She could never be that calm, she let herself get too emotional about minor things.

"I found some of their companions who prove they are not Death Eaters. Common sense also states Voldemort would not employ someone as young as the girl you have here and would certainly not stoop to allowing his Death Eaters to use muggle weapons like a lance or sword." Although Nino didn't understand a word the man said, she knew it made sense, but she frowned when her crystalline eyes caught how their assailants flinched at the name 'Voldemort.'

"What is your proof Dumbledore?" growled the man, swirling his large eyes to this Dumbledore, "They could be spies. They certain have the look of some." Isadora stiffed in disgust, her bright green eyes showing certain fury. It probably insulted her pride as a Lycian knight, though Legault merely gave a thin grin to himself.

"I have the proof I need Alastor. Please release them."

Legault turned to the man, drumming his slender fingers on his forearms. "Who exactly can prove our innocence?" Nino knew why he asked and moved closer to Jaffar. Despite his infamous reputation and cold exterior, she felt safer standing close to him and he probably felt similar. He tightened his grip on her shoulder.

"I believe her name was Commander Fiora," said Dumbledore, turning to Legault with an interested look at the young man's long scar.

The thief's lips twitched upwards in a smile, the answer pleasing him. Lucius and Isadora seemed content as well, Isadora breathing a small sigh of relief and Lucius grinning to himself. Nino didn't know the Pegasus Knight very well but she seemed kind, yet her talent with a spear was extremely impressive for her age, but she certainly had a hatred for the Black Fang. Nino knew why, she had overheard the aqua-haired whispering a prayer to St. Elimine for her departed squadron. The man with the crazy eye leaned in close to them, looking at Legault and Jaffar with dark mistrust.

Dumbledore continued and Nino watched him carefully. There was some powerful aura about this man, something that was both awe-inspiring and comforting at the same time. "I think I can trust you enough to let you into the Order. It is located at number 12, Gimmauld Place."

Isadora blinked, confused beyond words, and Nino frowned darkly, trying to comprehend their meaning. "Sir," said Lucius slowly, bowing in respect for the man. Being a fellow magic-user, he probably sensed the man's powerful aura as well, "What did that mean?"

"Turn around and think about what I told you." There was a strange sort of mirth in the man's voice.

Jaffar gripped Nino's shoulder tighter, hurting her slightly when she turned around. There was nothing unusual about the street, despite its unfamiliar house style. Her brow furrowed, she recounted what the man had just said and with a yell of fright, she saw a house squeeze in between the other two dirty buildings. She pulled Legault's cloak tighter around her shoulders, eyes wide with fear. The thief's pale eyes were wide with surprise, though he made no other movement, Lucius at a loss for words as he turned pale eyes to the house that had appeared from nowhere. Jaffar seemed indifferent, as usual and Isadora kept a firm hand on her horse's reigns as she blinked rapidly.

"You ARE sure it is wise?" said the unnamed man, distrustful as he turned his large eye upon Legault, "This one's got the look of some sort of thief." Legault chuckled darkly to himself.

"Yes Alastor, when have I ever been wrong." The man seemed to be insulted by the comment, turning away to Nino's relief. "Please, show them in. The young girl looks freezing," said Dumbledore, nodding at Nino.

"I'm fine," she muttered, tugging Legault's coat to her tightly. He smiled at her like a grandfather might do.

"Sir, do you know where our Lord Eliwood may be? He's about seventeen with bright red hair and blue eyes, carrying a rapier," asked Isadora, concerned for her young commander, "Or a woman styling herself Firefly, blonde, clad in a thick brown coat and a bubbly attitude?" Nino smiled at the thought of the energetic tactician, who had yelled one night at camp over the fact Lowen had cooked meat. Nino had never before met such an outspoken vegetarian, or any vegetarian for that matter.

"Very sorry, I do not know, but I will send somebody to look." Isadora bowed low. "Thank you sir, it'd be much appreciated."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "If you want, you could rest inside?"

Legault looked at Nino, then at Isadora and both nodded in some sort of mutual agreement. Nino felt Jaffar inch closer towards her and she looked up at the assassin, hoping to see comfort in vain. His blood-red eyes were not focused on her long but they did flicker towards her for a moment. When he caught her looking, he looked away. She smiled, following them into the shelter of the house with her small hands clutching the edges of Legault's cloak and her thick, yet ancient Anima tome.

End Chapter IV: Timore

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	5. Cambi Nell’apparenza

I do not own Fire Emblem or Harry Potter. Fire Emblem belongs to Nintendo and Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. All song lines belong to their original singers. I own all original characters and the plotline.

Chapter V:

Cambi Nell'apparenza

_. . . I know you hear me, I can taste it in your tears . . . _

_-'My Last Breath' by Evanescence_

Guy of Sacae eyed the female in front of him very nervously, his dark green eyes lingering especially on the heavy bat clasped in her right hand. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a ponytail, her blue eyes were flashing in mistrust and anger while her facial features were not of any ethnic group he had ever seen, though that wasn't saying much. She was dressed like a boy in dark trousers and a short-sleeved tunic made from thin material, one hand clasped a baseball bat and the other around a long, thin piece of wood about a foot in length. He already sustained a nasty bruise from her bat and if there was one thing he knew from traveling with Serra and Priscilla, it was to never anger a woman, even if you could easily beat them in combat.

He did think their situation could have been made much easier if Raven just put away his sword and dropped his scowl. The mercenary had dark blood stained on his hairline and right cheek, his eyes slightly unfocused and a purple-blue bruise was forming on his cheek where Sonia had kicked him. The girl kept nervously glaring at the young man's sword and she tightened her hold on both her would-be weapons.

"This is no way to treat a lady!" whined Serra, the only one out of the small group with Guy to be unscathed from the battle with Sonia, "Surely you know that I am a member of Ostian nobility and as of a higher rank then you in society, I demand that you stop threatening my vassals and I!" Behind her, Matthew made a face at the very thought of serving Serra.

The girl ignored Serra, much to the priestess's distaste, and turned back towards Guy with her small wand pointed between his eyes like one would brandish a knife. "Okay, I know your names, now," she said coolly with an accent extremely unique, "How did you get into my backyard?" No matter how many times any of them answered with 'I don't know', the girl would only swing her bat again.

"Would you believe us if we said a witch –" Guy ignored Matthew's fake cough as he corrected Guy with the equivalent to a female dog "- Sent us here?"

"That would depend. Is this witch named Bellatrix?" The girl's voice was icy as she spoke the name, which Guy thought was a pretty nice name.

"No, it's Sonia," said Priscilla meekly, keeping close to her steed's unconscious form. Her red-brown hair was also mattered with blood from where she had hit her head, though she was better off then Raven in terms of injury.

The girl's brow furrowed and she shot a nervous look at Raven's sword again, which was kept in a firm grasp about a foot and a half from his torso. "I'd feel a lot better if you but that thing away," she said sourly, gesturing towards the sword

The Mercenary narrowed his red-brown eyes and, as a mocking gesture, extended it towards the girl's neck. Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and she flickered her wand quickly through the air, her voice high and scared as she spoke a unique incantation. "Accio sword!"

The blade flew from his hands and, following the girl's wand, landed about seven feet away from them, as she had done with the rest of their weapons. The small pile was rather pitiful to look at. Raven swore horribly, balling his hands into tight fists and the girl gave a bit of a nasty smirk. "I know more, dangerous spells, so calm down or I'll be forced to use them." There was a very cocky edge to her voice

Serra's eyes widened in excitement and her voice was high and ecstatic. "Wow! That was so cool! What kind of magic was that, Anima? I hope not. Is it Light? If it is, then I could use it against Erk!" She leaned in closer to the girl, one eyebrow raised in an overly curious manner. The girl looked vaguely disturbed and leaned away from Serra.

" . . . Never mind. Now, who's this Sonia? Is she a Death Eater?" There was an even more disturbed, dark tone in her voice suggesting severe hatred.

"As good as," snarled Matthew and Guy shot him a look with a raised eyebrow, wondering what he meant.

"We're not sure what she is, truthfully," said Guy, knowing how stupid he sounded. He really wished she'd put the bat down. "Some kind of soul sucking, heartless witch though."

"That's being very nice about it," said Matthew sourly, and his hazel eyes were on her wand. Guy could almost picture his thoughts, and the list of prices people would pay for that that ran through his thoughts.

"Now, where are you from? I've established the fact your not here by accident," she spoke darkly, "And please don't give any utter nonsense."

Guy again nervously looked at her wand before speaking in a surprisingly calm voice. "Well I'm from Sacae, Serra, Matthew and Raven are from Lycia and Lady Priscilla here is from Eturia."

Her face went slack for a moment, then eager surprise was spread wide across her face and a glistening edge entered her blue eyes. "Wait, hang on a second, did you say Sacae?" she asked, eyes alight, "As in, Hanon of Sacae and . . . and Roland of Lycia?"

"Yes," answered Matthew slowly, one eyebrow raised as it often was when he was about to say some smartass remark.

The girl blushed furiously and threw aside her bat, giving a very hurried bow of respect. Guy was sure he was not the only one who was confused. "You're not joking then! I'm so sorry that I, err, hit you. I've had bad experiences."

"Miss," said Priscilla softly, comprehension dawning on her face, "Is this . . . is this Earth?" Raven shot her a confused look for a minute, a grimace of pain flickering on his face from moving his neck too quickly, but he too seemed to get what Priscilla said. Guy felt as though he were being kept out of some sort of big secret.

"Yes!" said the girl energetically, nodding her head up and down furiously.

"Wait, wait, WAIT! What is going on, I don't like being left out!" whined Serra, turning towards Raven and Priscilla with very angry, narrowed blue eyes. Matthew had abandoned his bemused expression and turned towards the girl, speaking very coolly. "I'd rather like to know what's going on as well." Guy nodded his head in agreement.

"Well, back before the Scouring, there was trading between Elibe and a country called England," began Priscilla, trying to keep her voice calm and collective, "This is the part that's the most exciting. It's in an alternate world from where Elibe is, in a world called Earth."

Guy frowned, remembering the legend his mother used to tell him back in Sacae. When a person perished, their soul was reborn in another world to repent for past sins and eventually move towards heaven and eternal peace. He had always simply dismissed the tale as simply that; a story used to ease the pain of his father's death. But hearing Priscilla's words, his thoughts drifted away from the girl and onto the recent deaths concerning the army of Eliwood of Pherae.

'I don't know the time differences between Earth and Elibe, but if it's like that, then Ephidel may be . . . Or Lord Elbert could be alive . . .' Guy then turned to Matthew, who was giving the girl a look with raised eyebrows and a disbelieving expression. The swordsman was remembering a magenta haired woman, found dead on the shores of Valor, whom Matthew had mourned for nearly a month in secret. She had been Leila, according to Serra, a very dear friend of Matthew's, perhaps even his lover. If the legend of the cycle of reincarnation was true, it might be possible that the thief could again see his beloved's face and eyes alive again.

"I've got to send a letter to Professor Dumbledore, he'll want to hear this!" she was babbling on about something, several sections of her speech falling on deaf ears as Guy pondered about the Sacean legends and stories of ancient times.

Almost as though Matthew had read Guy's train of thought, the Ostian spy whispered in very hopeful, yet still doubtful, tones, "You don't think that maybe, maybe Leila . . .? That maybe that rebirth legend thing is true?" Guy did doubt the factual evidence of the legend, but he couldn't really tell his friend that any chance was impossible. Instead, he chewed his tongue a minute and spoke soft and slow.

"I wouldn't get my hopes up. If it the time frame is the same, she'd only be a month old here." Matthew's face fell faster then a rock in water and he rubbed a steel ring he always wore around his pointer finger.

"What are you talking about?" asked Serra, turning sharply towards Guy and Matthew. The blue-eyed girl stopped her rambling for a minute to listen as well, tucking her wand into the waste band of her trousers.

"Sacean legend mentions something about this world, 'Earth', concerning the cycle of reincarnation," said Guy before Matthew could stop him. The thief glared sharp daggers into his friend's angular face and adjusted the collar of his crimson cloak.

"Rebirth cycle?" asked the girl, and this time her words were laced with slight fear and edge. Raven, seeing she was distracted for a minute, hurriedly picked up his sword and slipped it into his scabbard with a dark smile.

"Yes. My mother used to tell me a story when I was little. If someone died, they would be reborn on this world to repent and prosper again."

Her eyes widened and her coloring turned quickly pallid. She seemed at a loss for words for a minute, her body slack with apparent shock and horror. "Oh God, Sirius . . ." she hissed, "Oh no, oh no . . ."

"Who?" asked Serra interestedly, watching as the girl paced for a while with her head in her hands. Priscilla was watching the girl as well, clearly confused and concerned for her well-being and sanity. The girl was mumbling fast to herself, the words slurred in some places and jumbled together in others. At Serra's words, she looked up with still widened eyes.

"My . . . my best friend's godfather died a few weeks ago. He's blaming himself and . . . and he's really ill because of it. Won't eat or sleep or anything . . ."

"Maybe I could help," put in Priscilla kindly, standing with her staff drawn tightly to her chest, "Both Sister Serra and myself are healers."

"Yep! Hey, is your friend good looking?" asked Serra randomly, catching Guy off guard for a minute before a scowl crossed his face.

She shot Serra a bit of a disgusted look and the priestess took a step backwards, shrugging her shoulders casually. "Just asking."

"But if what you say is true, and there's a time difference . . . If you ever meet my friend, never mention this story. Ever." There was such seriousness in her voice, back by a hard threat, that Guy wished he had never mentioned that stupid story.

"You know, for looking like you, she doesn't act similar to you at all."

Countess Louise of Reglay sighed and looked at her silver-haired husband with a bit of a pained expression in her almond-shaped eyes. The couple, along with three of their fellow soldiers in service to Lord Eliwood and Lady Alexandria Mark (who preferred the alias Firefly) were in the dungeon of some sort of elaborate marble-made mansion, and their weapons had been confiscated while they were unconscious. Both Pent's and Canas' magic had no effect on the bars of their cell, in fact it rebounded against them. The side of Canas' face had a nasty electrical burn from where Pent's thunder attack had him and the bricks of the cell were covered with a thick gooey substance from the Druid's Nosferatu spell.

The mistress of the manner – who had possessed the same general form and hair coloring as Louise – had come down earlier, sneering and saying that the authorities would be coming to cater them off to some sort of prison for attempting to rob her. Both Marcus and Lowen's yells about the Lycian knight code fell upon deaf ears as the woman, tossing back her pale hair vainly, laughed hideously and left them to their suffering.

"Hopefully we'll be able to explain the situation," said Marcus, his dark eyes looking around for any weakness in the cell's structure, "They couldn't possible arrest you milord," he added to Pent with a nod of his head in respect.

"You really think so general?" asked Lowen hopefully, starring longingly at the cell across from them where his and Marcus' horses were. They were chained. The group's weapons were stacked by the heavy wooden door of the dungeon, put up on display next to other various items found in a torture chamber.

"That depends on where we are," said Pent calmly and bitterly, "If we're in Lycia, doubtful considering that woman didn't recognize General Marcus, then we'll probably be released. If we're in Bern, then it's very, very doubtful we'll avoid the death sentence."

"How so milord?" asked Lowen again, his green eyes glittering behind his tangled bangs.

Pent gave a dejected sigh and turned to the amber-clad knight. "For the last time, Sir Lowen, while we are traveling with you, we are not your lord and lady. Those titles are for young masters Eliwood and Hector and Lady Lyndis and Firefly."

"Well, as Pent was saying, since Sonia still has a firm grip over his majesty Desmond, she'll probably decide our fate," explained Canas sadly, leaning against the wall and removing his monocle to polish it on his sash. "She would have most likely planned a horrific death for us all."

The door of the dungeon opened with a loud bang. All five turned to see who it was. A young boy, about Eliwood's age but much shorter and scrawnier, walked in like he owned the world. He had silver blonde hair and bleached pale skin, his cold gray eyes showed little to no emotion. Dressed in long, sweeping black robes, he could have passed for a Shaman, though the dark material sharply contrasted with his near-lifeless coloring.

"So, you're the idiots who tried to rob us," he sneered, eyeing them maliciously. Pent knew automatically that he was the son of the lady of the house, both had the same stance and sneering, pointed face.

"Leave him be, he's not worth it," Pent said airily to Lowen, who looked ready to hurt the kid as much as possible for insult on his pride. The amber-clad knight had his hands balled into very tight fists and only stopped glaring daggers into the boy's horrible face at a sharp command from his superior knight.

"I'm not worth it, eh? I am the son of Lucius Malfoy, and you would do well to respect me. After all, I'll be greatly surprised if they don't kill you for picking this house to steal from."

Canas and Pent exchanged looks, the Druid's dark purple eyes narrowed at the boy's egotistical behavior. Pent raised an eyebrow, knowing the man's plan and opened his mouth to argue against it but Louise smiled and nodded at Canas. "A very light one," she whispered, "Very light."

He stuck his hand from the bars, eyes glowing coal black. "Flux," he said softly. The attack was very, very mild but it sent the boy across the stone floor. He cursed loudly, gathering himself up with the faint outline of a Dark Magic scar forming on his lower face and neck. "Freak!" he yelled.

"Well, you probably deserved it. Did it shake your ego?" smiled Louise. Pent sighed at his wife's antics and black humor.

The boy's eyes narrowed but something dawned on his face. "How did you do that?" he asked quickly and interestedly with a smirk drawing itself on his face. Something behind his voice suggested to Pent more then simple interest.

"Why would you want to know?" asked Louise coldly, "You did just call Lord Canas a 'freak', correct?"

The boy turned his narrowed gray eyes towards Louise, moving closer towards their cell with the hands in the pockets of his robes. "Never you mind, woman," he said icly.

THAT sent Louise off. Pent had been with her long enough to know how touchy his wife was about sexist comments. Lowen winced slightly at the thought of Louise's fury and Canas merely looked bored as he adjusted his monocle back in his right eye. Louise pressed herself as close to the bars as she could and reached out both her gloved hands and grabbed the front of his robes, bringing him close to her face.

"I'll have you know that I can kick your sorry little ass into death and do it again and again. Now, I want you to take the comment back or else I might have to do something I would probably regret," one hand moved towards the boy's thin neck, "You little brat."

"Lady Louise!" yelled Lowen, shocked. Pent simply pulled his wife off the boy and gave her one hard, sharp glare with his pale eyes. "Now, save it for the Black Fang," he said softly, "Don't waste it on a little boy who offended you."

The boy in question spat at the ground in front of the cell just as the door opened again. The blonde woman walked in again, this time with two people dressed in deep crimson robes. Both people had a strangely familiar aura to them, despite the fact that Pent had never seen either before, though the woman – with tightly cropped hazel hair and lush red lips – had a very noticeable and graceful gate that was shared by all three of the Pegasus Sisters in their army.

"Mother, these ingrates insulted me," he whined, as though trying to sound younger then he truly was. The woman, Madame Malfoy, gave her son no heart and merely waved him away. "These are the people gentlemen," she said formally with an overly sugared voice, "The foul men who tried to rob me." Lowen opened his mouth to reply angrily but a hard glare from Marcus kept him quiet.

"Madame Malfoy says that you attempted to rob her. Explain," said one – a man with thick red hair and a prominent hooked nose – in a clearly faked raspy, hoarse voice. Pent looked towards him, examining the skull-like face and the way the red robes hung loosely on his body.

"We were here by accident, someone sent us here by use of a spell. We mean no harm to her," said Marcus quickly and calmly, "On my honor I assure you that we were not on this lady's property by choice." Madame Malfoy clicked her tongue disgustedly and looked away.

"Names?" asked the woman in another high, exaggerated voice.

"Pent of Regaly," said the Sage delicately.

"Hang on," said the woman before any other could introduce themselves. "Dumbledore mentioned that name. That violet haired kid with him said to look out for him, you know, that one with the really funny accent."

'Erk,' Pent knew, smiling at the thought of his young apprentice, 'Remind me to give you some gold.'

"What are you fools babbling about? Arrest them!" snapped Madame Malfoy, pointing a long-nailed finger in the cell, "They are petty thieves who tried to rob me! They had weapons!"

"Sorry miss, Professor Dumbledore said to look out for a group of people like them. They would be here by mistake. We'll have to let them off."

"WHAT!" roared Mrs. Malfoy, losing her lady like stance to ball her thin hands into fists and stand on tip-toes to loom over the man's head by an inch. The man didn't even bat an eyelash when he spoke in the same false voice.

"Sorry miss. Dumbledore's orders are like orders from the Minister. Can't ignore them."

Malfoy scowled and the female walked over to where the cell keys were hung and unlocked the steel door. She pulled Pent close to her, making sure she did not look too suspicious and whispered in his ear, "I'll explain later." Her voice's façade had dropped, revealing a thick Ilian accent and a very familiar firm dialect. The connection to her dance-like movement and the voice clicked together in his mind.

"Fiora?" he asked, shocked at such a change in her appearance. She bore no resemblance to the teal-haired commander what-so-ever and if not for both her aura and her voice, he would not have been able to believe it was her.

She nodded and spoke softer and quicker. "Heath's with me."

Pent smiled with faint mirth, looking at her companion. With his beak-like nose and horribly thin figure, he looked more like some half-human cadaver with an angry look in his dark brown eyes. They took their weapons, Louise glad to grasp her silver bow again and Fiora unlocked the cell containing their horses. Madame Malfoy pursed her lips very tightly together, grabbed her son's wrist and they marched out of the room. Only when the door slammed shut did Canas chuckle darkly. It seemed he had heard what Fiora had said earlier, or maybe Heath had slipped in a clue.

"The look really suits you Heath." Louise and the two Pherean knights stared at Heath with looks of shock and the Wyvern Rider scowled very darkly and bitterly. "Cram it. You think I like it?" He tugged at a lock of his new vermilion hair and angrily stuck it behind his ear with a vengence.

"So how did you two manage to do that? Some kind of magic, I know," said Marcus, buckling his sword sheath around his waist again.

Fiora licked her lips and spoke in a calm voice as she tugged at the collar of her red robes. "We, along with Hawkeye, Rath and Florina, were at some castle. Apparently this is some sort of alternate world."

Pent and Louise exchanged looks with raised eyebrows and Louise spoke slowly. "Lord Athos mentioned something like that. Apparently the Eight Heroes received aid from four people in this realm before the final battle of the Scouring."

Fiora nodded and continued speaking, "Anyway, he employed us as bodyguards for some kid and asked us to teach at a school he's headmaster for. He . . . seemed a lot like Lord Athos to tell the truth. He's some sort of Sage here and sent us here, he seemed to know you guys would be here."

"This stupid look is caused by some potion he gave us," said Heath very angrily, "Apparently, we were too young to get you folks but whatever that potion was, it was the worst thing I have ever drank, including whatever was in the stew Lady Tactician made last week."

"Let's just hope you don't end up looking like that naturally Heath."

"Shut up Canas!"

End Chapter V: Cambi Nell'apparenza

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	6. Distante Collegato

I do not own Fire Emblem or Harry Potter. Fire Emblem belongs to Nintendo and Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. All song lines belong to their original singers. I own all original characters and the plotline.

Chapter VI:

Distante Collegato

_. . . I gave you wings of fire, so you could chose to fly with me . . ._

_-'Until' by ATC_

"You. Did. WHAT!"

Lord Nergal's voice echoed violently in the emerald halls of the Dragon's Gate, shaking dust from the tops of elaborate banisters and statues. Sonia flinched as her master's face became contorted in fury, fury such as she had never seen directed towards herself. She fell to her knees, fighting back tears and sobbing cries to keep her voice only slightly hysterical. "Master, I was foolish! I thought they would be out of our way! I-I did not know!" Her pleading fell upon deaf ears and Nergal turned his single visible eye upon her with narrowed, vicious vengeance.

"Did you even consider," he snarled, glowing the darkest of black colors. She knew that he would never harm her; the building magic was simply a sign to not anger him, "That this other world would have power not known on Elibe, or this entire miserable planet? That this power could be used to destroy our plans? That sending them there could kill you, my perfect being!" At this last statement, Sonia knew that she was safe. She took a small breath to steady herself and stood to look him in the eye.

"But Master, this power we do not possess, could we not use it to our advantage? They have a Dark Lord too, much weaker then you Master, for he is still chasing immortality with vain ideals and broken experiments. We could manipulate him and his followers to our advantage and we could use that to conquer both worlds."

A pleased smile began to stretch across Nergal's pale face and his eye returned to its normal shade of reddish brown. The idea seemed never to have occurred to him in his anger towards her. "Yes, that is a brilliant plan. I was right Sonia, you are perfect in every way." Her ego swelled at the compliment. "Go to this world and carry out your plan."

She gabbed the back of her long dress and gave a ridiculously low curtsey, keeping her fox-like golden eyes upon her master's face. "I live to serve you, Master."

"While your there, kill that annoying Lycian boy, Elbert's son. Make sure he never sees Elibe again. But bring back Ninian and Nils, I still need them for my plans."

Sonia tipped her head, as her mind formulated dozens of plans for her revenge on that miserable little fencer and his would-be 'mighty army'. "I will, Master. You will never see him again."

He threw his hand lazily aside, dismissing her from their conversation. Sonia stood up straight, focusing her mind on how she had sent Eliwood and his fellows away from the Water Temple and vanished in a telaportation circle of Anima magic. Once his vassal was gone, Nergal turned his head towards the looming and onyx wall of the true Dragon's Gate.

"Limstella!" he commanded with his voice ringing in the hall. There was another flash and rustle of Anima magic and another of his morphs appeared. Unlike Sonia, Limstella bore the appearance of a noblewoman, with delicate and refined facial features and a slim build suited for a runner. She bowed to her master, hands clamped tightly by her side while her golden eyes never left his face.

"I want you to go with Sonia to this other universe. Make sure she knows nothing of your presence there. I want you to find the hero of that world and bring him to me. Tempt him with anything he wants, he is a stupid little boy." Nergal's voice was quick, as though he wanted none other to hear his words.

"Yes milord," she said in her usual cool, dignified voice. Nergal continued speaking in the same quick tones. "Make sure you get him here and on his own free will, don't hypnotize him. He has a magical power that is very strong, very raw and untainted deep within his soul. He is also the great-great-great grandson of a very influence and gifted individual, the Count Alexander de Draco of Bern."

Limstella got the hint and nodded her head with stray strands of purple-black hair falling across her pale face. "Yes milord." She too was gone in seconds, with a pentacle of red magic fading away from the marble floor. Nergal smirked and looked again at the Dragon's Gate.

"So, Alexander, this is where you were hiding all these years, you miserable little traitor."

There was another surge of strong magic, such as the kind he had felt last night with the arrival of Eliwood and his companions. Harry shuddered for a moment, feeling weak in his knees and slightly light headed for a minute. "Harry?" asked Tonks worriedly, looking up from where she was trying to pull out the Dursley's electric fire. Even with Hector tugging on the thing, it was fastened firmly to the wall. Uncle Vernon had personally cemented the appliance into the back of the fireplace so it could never be pulled out again.

He shook his head, hiding a wince as a headache grew inside his temples. "I'm fine Tonks."

"Damnit! Why. Won't. You. Move!" snarled Hector with his eyes narrowed in fury, reaching for his axe to chop the thing off the wall. He seemed to dislike being shown up by an inanimate object. Eliwood smiled lightly and cut across his friend's whispered profanities. "We're probably going to have to pay for that if you break it."

Removing his hand from the axe, Hector turned back to Tonks. "What was that other way you said we could do?" he asked snappishly.

"Turn you five into animals, me and Remus telaport and Harry walk to London carrying a twenty pound trunk." The idea seemed to especially scare Ninian and Nils, Harry caught sight of their petrified faces from next to Lyndis.

"MOVE!" yelled Hector, tugging on the electric fire. With a crack, it flung out bringing plaster and dust out with it. "Ha! I knew I'd get it," he smirked, legging go of it. The front of his hair and eyebrows had been covered in the dust and dry plaster, giving a whitish-gray edge to them. He turned to Lyn, standing with a smirk. "And you said I couldn't do it." The Sacean did not comment but stared stonily at Hector with her arms crossed over her torso.

"Well, I'll get it back in before we leave. Tonks, you can light the fire," said Lupin, looking over to where the Dursleys were covering in fear behind the kitchen door. They had not taken to the arrival of two wizards and five absolute strangers sitting in their living room, probably especially nervous about the neighbors seeing any of Eliwood's friends.

Hector scowled darkly, probably angry his hard work wouldn't last long and Lyn gave him a sort of smile that said 'ha ha'. Tonks pointed her wand into the empty grate and licked her lips lightly. "Incindio!" she commanded, jumping on the balls of her feet for an added, unneeded effect.

A blast of fire erupted in the darkened grate, bringing unwanted warmth into the already humid living room. Hector blinked twice in interest, looking at the flames. "Wow, so that thing's like a portable Anima mage that doesn't talk back at you when you insult it?"

"Uh, whatever you say . . ." said Tonks, scratching the back of her head, understanding nothing of what Hector said.

Nils, who's attention had turned to the curtained window, gasped and quickly moved towards it, pressing his nose inches from the glass. "Lady Lyn! It's Lord Pent!" He sniggered then. "And . . ."

"What?" asked Lyn, peering out the window as well, "What _is_ he wearing?"

Harry's head jerked up and turned to where the others had clambered towards the window. That surge of magic he had felt, his quick lightheadedness and weakness, was that all from the arrival of these people? When the door chime rang, he heard Aunt Petunia march across the hall from her safe position by her husband. Then came her famed, shrill scream, normally signaling the arrival of a witch or wizard.

Harry listened as the door slammed shut, then opened minutes afterwards. A man's cool voice, with a very airy and light British-like accent, spoke a word of apologies and entered the lounge. He was a very formal looking man, albeit strange in Harry's opinion. His silvery hair was pulled into a loose ponytail thrown over his right shoulder, his light – near transparent – gray-blue eyes kind and flickering with the sort of power Dumbledore and McGonagall showed in their eyes. He wore a dark blue polo shirt, jeans and leather boots under a thick overcoat that reminded Harry of Mundungous Fletcher's. The look really didn't suit him well. Despite his hair, he looked very young, maybe only twenty-five.

"Bit funny that woman was. So, seems you five have gotten along well." Harry noticed how the others bowed their heads respectfully. The man – Pent as Nils had said seconds earlier – turned to Harry and frowned, eyes looking him up and down. "You are . . . ?"

"Harry Potter," answered Lupin. Pent still had that interested look in his eyes as he examined Harry's thin face and cat-like green eyes, traveling up to his infamous scar.

"Lord Pent?" asked Ninian, still shivering in her wet garments. Pent seemed to snap out of a sort of trace and turned towards the girl.

"It's nothing, I mistook him for someone else for a minute." Lupin raised one eyebrow but said nothing.

"What the hell are you wearing?" asked Hector without preamble, a grin on his face.

Pent grit his teeth for a moment but did not answer the navy-haired axe man, much to Hector's distaste. "Well, your from, where ever their from?" asked Tonks to Pent and Harry noticed a faint blush in the auror's cheeks. He fought the urge to crack a grin.

The silver haired man nodded. "I'm an acquaintance of theirs, yes. Pent of Reglay," he said, extending a hand for her to shake.

"Nymphadora, Nymphadora Tonks," said Tonks, shaking the hand overzealously, "Isn't it a nice name?"

Harry barely hid a snigger and Remus had turned dark red, from either embarrassment or anger. Lyn looked amused to, she was barely able to hide her silent laughing. Eliwood was about to say something but Hector stopped him by jerking his elbow into his friend's stomach. Pent went crimson and swallowed, clearly very unsettled.

"Um, Lady Nymphadora, I'm very pleased to meet you, but . . . I'm married." Tonks went a darker red then the Weasley's hair. "Oh, uh . . . S-Sorry . . ."

"That's okay . . ."

A sudden rush of warmth re-entered her body. She gasped for breath, her lungs burning in agony as she gulped in chilled air. Her eyes snapped open for the first time in months, her body shaking with cold and fatigue. She was lying on the dewy ground of some sort of castle. A lake was nearby with a glittering pale blue surface while the smells of a forest wafted over to her. She sat up, her joints stiff and cracking when she moved.

"How? How is this possible? Jaffar KILLED me!" she shouted to nobody in particular, knowing how insane she sounded.

_Now, now, yelling won't solve anything._

She looked around for the voice. Her range of vision was constricted by the fact her neck still bore the place where the assassin's dagger had sliced it. The wound had healed over, making a very raw area, but she could not move her neck too often or too quickly.

"Who are you!" she demanded.

_I brought you back. Do not worry._

"How?"

_I am an elder druid. You life was not to end at that time. You are still needed._

"Why?"

_It is not my place. Find your own destiny, Lady Spy.  
_  
She swallowed painfully and asked the question on the tip of her tongue. "Is Matthew . . .?"

_Yes. You will meet him soon, Leila_She stood. "Where am I?" There was no answer from the voice. "Hello!" Still silence. Leila placed a hand on the hilt of her dagger her fingertips brushing the cool wire-wrapped hilt. It was good to know she still had it. Standing, she saw her clothes were stained with dirt with blood on the neck of her tunic. Sighing, she turned to the large castle behind her.

"I have to find some sort of shelter. This is as good as any to start with."

Walking, she fingered the ring on her right index finger. It had been a gift from Matthew, right before they had enlisted into House Ostia's service. The band was silver, half of a blue gem resting in it. Engravings were around the jewel, carved in Lycian, and read the proverb she had always said as a child.

"'You scratch my back, I scratch yours.' How true," she said with a smile, "Oh Matthew, I'm glad we could see each other again."

Alexandria Mark of Ostia – the Lady Tactician of Lord Eliwood known commonly as Firefly – wasn't the kind of person meant for battle, which was why she had taken to be a tactician. That was one reason; the other was because she didn't like armor much. So, cursing Sonia and all the woman stood for, she sat up and rubbed her sore head.

"Blimey, if this is what it feels like to have a hang over I'll never, ever drink again," she moaned, her ice blue eyes looking around her. One thing was sure, she'd never seen ANY place like this in her extensive travels of Elibe. A cobble street was lined with shops and she, along with a few others from their make-shift, rag tag army, was in an alleyway between a bookshop and an animal shop. Despite the fact none of her employers were there, she found the situation rather okay. At least she wasn't dead, or severely injured. Sighing heavily, Firefly knelt down by the limp body of Harken and shook the knight awake with a mad smile crossing her tan face.

"Wakie, wakie lummox!" His navy eyes flickered open and he scowled at the sight of her face. "St. Elimine's grievance, not you," he moaned, sitting up. She put her hands on her hips and frowned. "Ah, is that a hint of sorrow I detect in the voice of Sir Harken the Brave?"

"Silence," he hissed, picking up his sword and shield, both of which were next to him. His face paled as he looked to the other three people lying with them. "Where is Lord Eliwood?" he asked sharply.

"No idea, I just woke up ding-dong."

"I have no time for your antics Firefly Mark!" he snarled and looked at the other unconscious soldiers by them. Farina, Geitz and Karel all were there, Farina's Pegasus lay by her mistress. She swallowed hard and cursed herself for her lack of tactics as her eyes fell upon Karel's limp, bloodied body.

The Swordmaster had apparently been fighting a lance wielding soldier and a Mage at the same time, for his wounds were numerous and different in origin. His dark hair was mattered with blood, his arm covered in blistering burns. The wounds from a spearhead crisscrossed and overlapped each other over his chest, staining his navy coat black with blood. She bit her lip and fumbled in her drawstring bag for something.

"Dammit, no elixirs or vulneries," snapped Firefly, "Harken, go find help." The knight didn't object and hurried off.

Firefly rubbed her temples. "Blimey, I need a pay raise for this Eliwood . . ."

End Chapter VI: Distante Collegato

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	7. Disposizioni

I do not own Fire Emblem or Harry Potter. Fire Emblem belongs to Nintendo and Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. All song lines belong to their original singers. I own all original characters and the plotline.

Chapter VII:

Disposizioni

_. . . Firefly come back to me, make the night as bright as day . . .  
-'Firefly' by ATeens_

Albus Dumbledore had experienced many odd things in his extensive lifetime, none of which ever included an army from another world appearing scattered throughout England. The situation had spread quite quickly to the Ministry and it was apparent they did not sit well with the accommodations. With a heavy sigh, Dumbledore turned back to the fuming Minister of Magic. Fudge was dressed sloppily, unlike his usual pristine pinstripe suit, showing the stress the middle-aged man had gone through these past few months with the return of Voldemort, the complaints about safety from foreign representatives and now the whole mess with these people.

Fudge took a quavering breath and prattled on in anger. "Dumbledore, I just can't see the logic in this, not at all. Around the country, people with WEAPONS of DESTRUCTION appear out of nowhere, you swallow their crack-pot tale of being from another world still living in the past and ENLIST over thirty people to be the new professor for the MOST important subject in the school?"

"That sums it up Cornelius. Is there anything else you would like to ask me?" asked Dumbledore with his trademark smile.

Fudge went red in fury and Dumbledore continued talking. "The reason I asked them to do this is because I seriously doubt Voldemort will have the knowledge to fight against their form or magic or fighting. Plus, Harry is safer with some of them serving as a body guard."

"You hired these, these BARBARIANS to protect Harry Potter!"

"If I need not remind you, your protection for the boy last year was sending your secretary to make his life, oh how do I say it, a living hell."

The minister reddened even more. "That does not excuse the fact that one has a DRAGON with him."

"I believe that is a Wyvern, Minister, not a dragon. Hyperion does not breath fire."

"It doesn't matter! They're still . . ." Fudge fought for words to describe the people he had seen earlier, his eyes near desperate.

"Listen to me Cornelius, they will be helpful. Besides, Lord Pent already senses Harry's power."

Fudge was confused and crossed his arms to glare sharply at the elder wizard. "I don't understand Dumbledore."

"Don't you remember exactly who James Potter's great-great grandfather was?" asked Dumbledore sadly.

"Yes, Count Alexander de Draco, a very powerful sage and the only person to ever master a dragon animagus form." Fudge narrowed his eyes as he thought. "Records state the man drowned himself after discovering the woman he raped was the daughter of the head of the International Confederation of Wizards."

"Yes," sighed Dumbledore, "And I'm afraid Harry inherited more then the family name."

Ignoring Fudge's confused, sputtering face, the aged Headmaster stood from his desk. "I must go. Poor Minerva and Alastor must be tired of their visitors in the headquarters."

With that, Dumbledore swept from his office, leaving Fudge dumbstruck and angrier then ever.

Eliwood had never experienced traveling by Pent's telaportation and never wanted to experience it ever again. Coupled with the nauseous feeling and the hard, off core landing, he really wished he'd considered Tonks' option longer. Sitting up and rubbing the back of his head that had collided with the hard stone floor, he looked around with pain searing across the electrical wounds on his neck. "Feels like home," he muttered, looking around the vast hall. It was decorated in rich colors of indigo and platinum-white silk with suits of armor between paintings that seemed to blink at him in a whimsical sort of way. Behind him, the Lord Pent smiled and extended a hand to help the young lord up.

"Sorry, I never really mastered that," he said with a bow of his head.

"Just tell Firefly that, and with the right distance that'd be pretty useful in battle," said Eliwood with a bit of black humor.

Lyn muttered something in her native tongue, probably profanity, rubbing the arm she landed on. "You really need to work on that landing there." Hector was desperately trying to free the axe that had sunk into the floor.

"Stupid. Thing!" he snapped between curses. Chuckling, Pent lifted it easily from the floor with a wave of his hand. "I didn't need help!"

"Well, get comfortable. The owner of this estate has granted us residence, for a price."

"The price?" asked Ninian, helping her little brother up. She seemed unhurt from the landing, much to Eliwood's relief.

"First, this seems to be a school for witches and wizards, like Dame Nymphadora and her companion. The master of the castle, requests, that we teach the students here about Elibe."

"St. Elimine's graces, I don't want to end up like my number teacher," muttered Hector, swinging his axe lazily behind his shoulder and nearly cutting Lyn's ear off in the process. She gave him a dark glare.

"The second was protection for that boy, Harry Potter."

"What's so special about that kid?" asked Lyn, "He seemed like nothing more then an anorexic teenager."

Again, a misty look entered Pent's pale eyes as he spoke in a voice more airy then his normal speech. "He has a very powerful aura, very unbalanced as well. Ninian and Nils could sense it, am I correct?" All eyes turned to the two siblings. Nils glanced at his sister, who shifted uncomfortably and spoke quietly, though her voice echoed in the empty corridor. "He is strong, untrained and unstable, but unbelievably powerful for somebody so weak in physical stature. With proper training, he could be of the caliber of the Eturian generals."

"That's . . . very interesting. Why couldn't we sense anything?" asked Eliwood in confusion, turning to Pent. The Sage placed his hands in the pocket of his long coat and spoke in a casual, unconcerned fashion.

"Eturian children are taught at a young age to read auras. It gives us a sense of who is trustworthy and who is not, as well as a heightened awareness of those around us. Say if you disguised yourself, and nobody could tell it was you. An Eturian could simply sense your familiar aura and know it was you. Most magic users have a similar ability. Even the weakest Mage could find a friend in a crowd of people. As for Ninian and Nils," he bowed his head towards the pastel-haired siblings, "Their unique abilities are tied with arcane magic, so they can use the same skill."

"That must be a useful talent," said Lyn, her voice peaked with interest, "So you could tell if somebody was lying just by looking at them?" Pent nodded.

"So, as payment for allowing us residence, we're to teach and guard some kids? Shouldn't be too hard," said Hector lazily, "I just want to get some sleep."

Pent sighed deeply and spoke somewhat softer. "The only trouble is that most of our army is scattered. That includes Lady Firefly. The lord of the castle has vassals looking for anybody matching her description, but so far no luck."

Hector gave a slight smile, which quickly left his face. "No offense, but for a while it may be nice not to have her. She's like Serra, except worse, and that's really saying something."

"And we'd all be dead without her Hector," said Lyn with a nasty look. She was on very good terms with Firefly, the girl had brought Lyn to her grandfather and the Sacean's last of kin, plus some of their ideas were surprisingly similar.

"Yeah, well, she's nearly starved us a few times. Three whole days in Nabata we couldn't eat because the only food there was wildlife."

Eliwood only smiled as another argument broke out between his two friends.

Mrs. Weasley sighed as she folded Professor McGonagall's letter in half, a grim sort of expression on her face. "Well, this is a bit of a bother."

"If you don't mind me asking, what is a bother ma'am?" asked Rebecca. The archer had been skimming through one of Ron's charms text books, enchanted by the moving diagrams and drawings, though her attention had quickly turned towards Mrs. Weasley when the witch had spoken.

"Oh, it's nothing serious; in fact it's good news. Professor Dumbledore has found most of your friends and they're at Hogwarts, safe and sound."

"What do you mean, 'most of our friends'?" asked Erk edgily, probably in concern for his charge, Priscilla of Carleon.

"Here's the names of the people whom he knows are safe." Kent took the letter Mrs. Weasley had extended out, his eyes traveling down the list of names very slowly. Several times relief flashed across his features, yet near the bottom of the list he frowned darkly and turned to his partner. "Leila, Leila . . . Wasn't Leila that spy whose body we found on Valor?"

Sain nodded glumly, his eyes downcast. "Poor girl, and Matthew was so upset. Wouldn't talk for quite some time, right?"

"You mean, she's dead?" asked Ginny with sympathetic eyes, which lowered in a sort of respectful pledge towards the dead.

"So this 'Leila' that Professor Dumbledore found is probably an imposter, right?" said Ron, who seemed quite pleased with the fact he was stating obvious facts.

"Unless, by some odd chance, Sonia found another girl named Leila and sent her with us or brought Leila back to life as one of her soulless demons."

Sain glared sharply at the violet-haired Sage, who was buried in his Anima tome and seemed quite undisturbed by his previous comment. "Erk! Stop scaring her."

Erk's violet eyes lifted up to stare into Sain's gray ones. "I'm not scaring her, I'm just telling her the truth."

It wasn't the greatest feeling to have demonic-looking red hued eyes stare at you from the face of an angry sorcerer. Sain sighed but didn't continue the subject, much to Kent's content. The emerald-clad knight turned to where Rebecca was browsing the shelves of Mrs. Weasley's kitchen library. Ron pulled Ginny aside and hissed quietly to her, though why he wanted to keep their topic quiet was unknown to her.

"Do you think we should owl Harry?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will explain everything in due time."

"Last term Dumbledore didn't explain anything!" barked Ron. Ginny chewed her lip, thinking back to the scars that crossed her brother's chest and changed the subject in a hasty tone.

"You're just jealous because somebody OTHER then your best friend is hitting on me," she said in low voice. She smiled widely and slyly as her brother went scarlet and narrowed his blue eyes. "I am not!"

"Explain why you're blushing."

"Sorry to be eavesdropping, but Sain flirts to every girl he meets." It was Rebecca. The Archer smiled sweetly and tugged at one of her viridian braids.

"Listen, I'm really sorry for all this trouble we've caused, but from the bottom of our hearts, thank you for helping Sain." Her eyes turned towards the knight. "He might be annoying, but . . ."

"Trouble's our neighbor, or it just likes us," said Ron with a sigh, running a large hand through his bright red hair.

"If there's anything we could do to make it up to you for our hospitality, don't hesitate to ask." She shifted her weight to one hip, jutting out her quiver a little more. Ginny saw her brother's eyes flicker towards them edgily.

"Can you get ride of those weapons? They're kind of . . . imposing." Rebecca looked at her arrows and ran a thumb through the goose feathers on one shaft, turning towards them in slight confusion.

"Which reminds me, why don't you have any? Don't bandits attack you?"

". . . No . . ." said Ron slowly, giving Ginny a concerned side glance.

Rebecca sighed enviously. "That must be nice. I haven't had a decent night's rest in two months, too many attacks. Then the joyful days on Valor where nobody sleeps unless they decide to risk their life."

Catching the Weasley's shocked looks, she frowned. "Don't you have to defend yourselves SOMEHOW? I mean, you must be the man of the family, right?" Ginny snorted in laughter and Ron's ears went red.

"That's a laugh. We have our dad and five older brothers."

"So where are they?"

"Work."

Rebecca's brow furrowed. "Work? Don't you have a farm?" Ron scowled, taking that as an insult. Ginny didn't mind too much, since most students in her year didn't bother her too much, but Ron had taken far too many insults from the mouth of Draco Malfoy to differ from confusion and cruelty. "No, they're in our government," he said through clenched teeth. She shrank back, her own eyes narrowing. "Well SORRY!" she stood and walked off back towards Wil, who seemed entertained with Ron's magical chess pieces.

"Ron!" snapped Ginny, glaring daggers into his face.

"She just insulted us!"

"THEY LIVE ON SIXTEENTH CENTURY KNOWLEDGE," she snapped in a whisper as not to attract attention, "THEIR WORK FORCE CONSISTS OF KNIGHTS, FARMERS AND ROYALTY."

"Well, that's that." Everyone turned to Mrs. Weasley as she moved towards the fireplace, taking down the flowerpot that contained the family supply of Floo Powder.

"Ma'am?" asked Wil nervously.

"Well, the only way to get an answer is to talk to Professor Dumbledore and the only way to get there is by Floo Powder."

Ron and Ginny exchanged a grin, knowing what will happen.

Nino was still gripping tightly onto Jaffar's arm out of fear and her nails were leaving raw red marks in his tan skin. The house they had entered smelt like mildew and put her in mind of the old headquarters of the Black Fang before they had relocated to the Water Temple. Isadora's horse, Woodfall, was nervously by her mistress and the Paladin was edgy as well. The man with the abnormal eye was still watching them intently, his pupil focused especially upon Jaffar.

"I'm scared," she whispered. The Assassin tightened his grip on her shoulder and his ruby eyes flickered to her sapphire ones. "Don't be," he said in his whisper-soft monotone.

"So, let me understand this," said Isadora smoothly, trying to sound calm and polite, "We're expected to believe that we're in an alternate world about a thousand years ahead of us in technology and that we're being hired as bodyguards for a boy who is the savior to the world?"

"That is correct," answered the old man who had told them the way into the home, Professor Dumbledore.

"I'll have to say that is the most outrageous tale I've ever heard, including that story about the one eyed giant and the pig Firefly told us while she was drunk," said Legault, a thin smile on his face at the memory.

"Well, I tell nothing but the truth. Is there nothing I can do to persuade you that I am honest?"

"Tell us where Lord Eliwood, Hector and our Lady Commanders are," said Lucius politely but firmly, "It would be relieving to know that they are safe."

"They are at Hogwarts, a very secure castle under my possession."

"If it's so secure, why is it named after a pig?" Nino had to smile lightly at Legault's comment. Dumbledore gave a smile to. "I can't answer that question, but I do assure you that they're safe."

Legault sighed and drummed his long fingers on his bare arms. "Let me say this as kindly as I can: we have no proof to trust your word and I for one refuse to believe a word you say until I can here it from the mouth of our commander."

The woman called Minerva bristled violently and raised the twig she had pointed at them earlier. Lucius turned to the man and it was evident that he was getting slightly desperate. "Sir, is it possible that we could SEE one of our, um, superiors and have their opinion on the subject?"

"Do I count as a superior?" asked a woman's cool voice. Turning, Nino saw the blonde Countess Louise with a small smile on her face enter through a room on the right. Nino had to giggle at her clothing choice. Louise was wearing what appeared to be men's trousers, a thin emerald tunic that clung to her body a little to well and her white boots that completed the unique and mismatched ensemble.

"Lady Louise!" Lucius exclaimed, bowing low. Nino saw him wince slightly, probably from his leg wound, though Louise merely gave a polite smile. "Enough with the formalities Father."

"Where is our Lady Commander? Lord Eliwood, Lord Hector, Lady Firefly?" asked Isadora swiftly and breathlessly, her horse nuzzling her owner's neck. Louise smiled. "My dear husband brought them to some castle. They're safe, or Pent's telaport cracked their heads open." This brought a smile to Louise's face for some reason.

Nino sighed and loosened her grip on Jaffar's shoulder. That was a good thing as this time she had drawn blood from the softer flesh of his underarm. Dumbledore smiled again and pulled a round, copper disk from the pocket of his robes. "This disk will take you to the castle where your commanders are."

There was silence, Nino wondering how a simple disk could transport five people to a castle probably miles away. The silence was broken when Isadora spoke in the voice of her norm. "How will my horse get there?"

"That arrangement will be simple and you need not worry. I can assure you, she will be safe."

The Paladin sighed and placed a gauntleted hand on the disk Dumbledore extended. Slowly, the rest of the small group did. Nino exchanged a glance with Jaffar before doing so. With a jerk of pain behind her navel, Nino shut her eyes tightly against the whorl of color and they were gone.

Raven was glaring sharply at Hermione, watching as the brown haired witch poured six mugs of tea from an elaborate pot. She was muttering under her breath, though he caught her final statement. "I've sent a letter to my headmaster, he'll be here hopefully and have some answers."

Meanwhile, Matthew's hazel eyes flickered to the china littering the kitchen shelves then to some of the stranger equipment in the room. He took an apple from the bowl on the counter and took a large bite out of it, his eyes turning towards the microwave. "That'd fetch a nice price."

"Do you even know what that is?" asked Guy in exasperation, taking the apple from Matthew and examining it idily.

"That my friend, is an apple," said Matthew with his crooked smile, then jerked his head towards the microwave, "As for that, it doesn't matter, people will still buy it if it shines."

"Your logic will never cease to puzzle me."

Matthew's grin widened and he took back his apple, speaking afterwards through a mouthful of fruit. "Hey Guy, do you like Serra?" Serra, who was looking at the china as well, turned her head suddenly to the two men.

"Eh?" asked the Myrmidon, turning to his friend who had a smirk on his face.

"Saceans never lie Guy, do you have a crush on Serra?"

"Answer him Guy," said Serra coldly, a change from her usual perky attitude.

"I . . . Where the hell did this come from?" snapped Guy, his face bright red. Matthew grinned madly.

Raven rolled his eyes. "Simpletons. So tell me girl, this world as you put it, does it have any way of detecting . . . blood relatives?"

Now everyone looked at the mercenary who looked quite unembarrassed. Hermione cleared her throat before speaking in a quick voice. "Yes, a blood test would work and there's a potion that if you deposit two drops of two people's blood into that potion, the liquid will turn green if they are closely relate to each other, blue distantly related, red not related at all."

"But no way of determining blood relationships by, oh say, eyesight or a quick spell?" Priscilla gave Raven a nervous look, Hermione a confused one but she nodded her head.

"Yes, but you need the two people to willing comply. Other then that, there's no way."

"Good."

A soft chime rang through the house, from seemingly nowhere. Hermione put down the kettle and ran to the front door. "Stay here," she whispered, "And don't touch anything." She walked swiftly down the front hall and opened the door. There were a few minutes in which a conversation was heard through the hall and the kitchen, though Raven truly had no interest in the topic of discussion. Then an old man who resembled Lord Athos walked into the room, following by Hermione. Out of respect, Guy got to his feet and bowed. It was Sacean custom but that didn't stop Matthew's laugh.

"There's no need," smiled the old man. Hermione was quiet for once and Guy was pleased, her constant questioning for every little detail on Elibean life had really gotten on his nerves. "I am Professor Dumbledore."

"Yeah, we reasoned that. So, do you have any clue on how we could get back to our world? Or better yet, where's Lord Eliwood, Hector and Lady Lyndis?"

"And Lady Firefly," said Priscilla, glaring at Raven for forgetting the blonde tactician. The man sighed, yet still his eyes were still semi-unconcerned. "I'm afraid the only way I can think of for you to get back to your world is by this Sonia woman."

"That's comforting. We might as well move here," said Serra point blankly, "And if we do, I want a mansion with tons of servants."

"Your commanders are safe in Hogwarts." Serra snorted in laughter at the name. "And Lady Firefly?" asked Prisilla again, "Is she safe?"

"That I don't know."

Priscilla's eyes fell and Guy spoke quickly. "So, how many people of our army do you know is safe?"

"About twenty or so."

"And Lady Firefly is not included."

Serra clicked her tongue obnoxiously. "Why do you insist on Lady? She's not a lady, she's a menace!"

"So are you," muttered Matthew. Serra swung her staff to collide with the side of the thief's head. "Dammit that hurt!"

"Well, Miss. Granger, your parents are away?" Hermione nodded. "For the rest of the month, my little sister to."

"Can I ask that these people stay with you the rest of the month?" There was an unusual energetic gleam in Dumbledore's eyes as a smile flickered across his wrinkled face.

"Say what!" yelled Matthew and Serra at the same time. Guy's jaw dropped, while both Priscilla and Raven said nothing, though both seemed equally unconcerned about the arrangements.

"I'll send a letter to your parents. You do have the room, right?" Hermione, frowning for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you Miss. Granger. This will count as extra credit for your lowest assignment." Here her eyes sparkled. "Thank you professor."

Matthew and Serra were engaged in a staring contest, each showing the other resentment and Guy sighed, rubbing his temples. "So, most of our companions are at this castle?"

"That is correct."

"Can I go with them?"

"Sorry."

Firefly unclasped her cloak and wrapped tore off great parts of it, wrapping them around Karel's wounds. She was not as skilled with first aide as she might have wished, and the fabric merely seemed to irritate his skin. He twitched violently when she tied a large section of the brown cloth around his ribcage, merely proving broken ribs and an even greater problem to her. "St. Elimine, help me . . ."

Farina had awoken and, as she too carried no healing equipment, was cursing heavily. "Why oh why, this isn't good. My poor Murphy . . ."

"DING DONG, YOUR COMRADE IS DYING!" Farina waved her hand lazily, narrowing her navy eyes. "I'm a mercenary, comrades live, comrades die, no big."

Firefly felt a vein throb in her temple. "You are disgusting, even Serra is better dealing." The tactician brushed back her blonde hair and felt around in the pockets of her cloak for anything, absolutely anything that could help him. She nearly screamed in joy when her fingers touched a jewel inside the right pocket and she wrenched it out with a brilliant gleam in her blue eyes. It was a cutting from a Mend orb, and it was a gift from Lady Elenora that had come with a slight threat. 'Use it only if anybody is in absolute danger, and if it is my son, I will make sure no army will ever employ you in Lycia again.'

She placed it against Karel's chest, where her wrappings were already soaked through with blood. "Please work, please work," she chanted, trying and failing to sound calm in her desperation. She grinned madly when the cutting glowed with the pale cerulean glow of magic. The cuts and wounds healed themselves in seconds, though the blood still remained caked on his skin and in his hair. Farina raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't know you could use magic Firefly. You'd make much more money as a Mage then as a pathetic tactician."

Firefly ignored her and gently shook Karel awake. "Wake up pretty boy!" she said with her usual wide grin, seemingly forgetting about his wounds. His dark brown eyes flickered opened slowly and she frowned, tilting her head to one side. His eyes were normally hard and cold, like his attitude and fighting style, but now they were softer and glazed with confusion, rather like a child's eyes.

"What happened?" he asked, sitting bolt upright. Even his voice was softer and confused, making him seem younger then his twenty years. He winced violently as he touched the many patches of brown cloth that covered his still tender wounds.

"I healed you and you owe me! I'll go easy on you."

Karel blinked. "And who exactly are you? Or, better yet, who am I?"

End Chapter VII: Disposizioni

Review


	8. Pitture

I do not own Fire Emblem or Harry Potter. Fire Emblem belongs to Nintendo and Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. All song lines belong to their original singers. I own all original characters and the plotline.

Chapter VIII:

Pitture

_. . . Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive . . .  
-'Iris' by the Goo-Goo Dolls_

Firefly rubbed her temples, nearly wrenching her hair from her head and screaming out profanity in various languages. This couldn't be happening, it just couldn't happen to her. "I swear, I'm going to get gray hair before I'm twenty with this lot, and I'm only two years away from that!"

"So let me hear it again. The Sword Demon's amnesic, we're lost from our commanders and Farina's worried about that blasted winged pony of hers?" asked Geitz slowly as though trying to understand something very hard. He had only woken up about a minute after Karel had and it was clear he was about as cheery as Firefly was. One of his arms had been broken and it had taken the last of Firefly's cloak to make a sling. She now wore her precious coat as a midriff jacket, going poorly with the rest of her green attire.

"Yeah, do we need to spell it out?" snapped Firefly, "St. Elimine help me, WHAT DID I DO TO YOU!" she yelled to the sky, pointing a finger at it accusatorily.

"Exist?"

"Please, no jokes Mr. Hero," barked the tactician with a dark giggle while waving her finger in Harken's face, "And by the rights invested in me by my BRILLIANT tactical mind and my contract with Ely-Woody gives me ABSOLUTE POWER! Sir Harken, go find so shelter."

"That's why I came back, people here FEAR knights," growled Harken, a vein twitching in his temple, "Some woman screamed at the sight of me just because she caught a look at my sword." His gloved hand twitched as he wrapped it around the golden hilt of his Brave Sword.

Karel came between the two, limping slightly pitifully on his leg. Although Firefly's orb had saved him from mortal peril, it had not completely healed his wounds and his right leg was still fractured, though she didn't know the extent of the injury. "Look," he said sharply, "This woman's right, if we have any hope of living longer then the day, we'd better find some shelter."

"See? He knows what a genius I am, why won't you admit it Harken?" said Firefly brightly, sweeping up her pale hair for a moment into a bun then allowing it to fall back down on her neck.

Harken was trying not to let loose his temper, and simply grit his teeth and looked away from her. Farina, whose eyes were narrowed, sighed angrily. "Look, let's just find some place to crash until we get an idea what the hell happened, 'kay? And Firefly, it's not your idea, its common sense."

"You're all just jealous," she said, pouting.

"Of what, your oblivious nature to everything around you or the humor that's made us think about firing you and getting a new tactician?"

"Ha! Like Lord Eliwood would ever do that to me! Sides, he likes me." She nodded knowingly and pointed a thumb into her chest.

'Just keep telling yourself that,' thought Farina glumly, giving Firefly sharp glares and near disgusted glares.

With a thud, Nino landed on her arm very painfully. Giving a soft cry of pain, she blinked and winced as she moved her injured limb. Her clear, crystalline eyes looked around her new location, suddenly giving magic a whole new perspective. The disk the old man had given them had taken the small group to a large, roomy castle hall with large windows on the sides, decorated in rich, warming colors and suits of highly polished armor. It was, at least to say, impressive. She stood quickly, clutching her raggedy tome tightly, and felt Jaffar's rough callused hand grip her upper arm in a tight squeeze. Glancing back, she felt herself shiver. The legendary killer's face was hard as always but his hand was gripped tightly upon the hilt of one of his daggers.

"So, any idea where we are?" asked Lucius nervously, getting to his feet and wincing slightly. Nino knew it had to be his leg, a Wyvern Lord had presented him with a nasty gash from his spear and he had not had the chance yet to heal it.

"Not a clue," mused Legault, looking around. His violet eyes caught the silver suits of armor and gold framed painting. "Very well to do place, must be some noble's home."

"I would prefer if you didn't speak so negatively Mr. Thief," snipped a brisk, female voice, accented even stranger from Dumbledore's crowd. Everyone looked around for the speaker and the woman clicked her tongue loudly before speaking in clipped tongues. "The painting you twits, to your right!"

"Saint's grace, what is this?" yelled Isadora, drawing her sword and looking the painting Legault had just been staring at. It showed a blonde haired woman with deep emerald eyes and chocolate colored skin, leaning lazily against a violet curtained backdrop. She had a heart-shaped face and a richly tailored gown, fat sapphires at her throat and ears. The painting rolled her eyes, making Nino jump slightly.

"Honestly, the barbarians the Headmaster lets into the castle are unbearable, I would have thought those accursed twins were enough but no, now comes a set of rejects from King Arthur's court. I swear to the heavens above, Time Turners can bring forth all kinds of weirdoes and maniacs."

"You watch your mouth painting," snapped Isadora, the silver blade of her noble sword inches from ripping the canvas of the woman's painting. The subject merely looked at the sword and clicked her tongue impatiently again.

"Silly girl, you think that's going to hurt me? This painting's been around longer then you have and you'll have to face the wrath of the whole Ravenclaw house if you destroy me," sniggered the woman, lazily flipping back her hair.

"Okay then," said Lucius, regaining himself from the nasty shock of having a painted picture talk to you, and bowing gently towards her, "Sorry for our rudeness, ma'am, but could you please tell us where we are exactly?"

"Ah, you have some manners," said the woman, folding her arms across her chest and giving a mad grin, "You are at Hogwarts castle, and you'll do well not to help your hands on our items Mr. Thief, we'll know it's been you."

"How so, dare I ask?" asked Legault with a thin smile, probably finding extreme amusement in having a portrait insult him.

"Do you really think I'm the only painting that moves? Every single one does and there's that demon cat stalking the night, oh yes, very demonic. She knows everything that goes on at the castle after curfew. Though I suppose that won't bother you, now will it?" she simpered, eyes sparkling.

"May we have your name?" asked Nino softly.

"Ah yes, I am Rowena Ravenclaw, founder of the Ravenclaw house and the youngest of the four founders. And you ruffians must be Roland's kinsman, am I correct? Polite lad he was, a bit quick tempered but you couldn't find a better chef . . ."

"You KNEW Lord Roland?" gaped Isadora, "The founder of Lycia, the first king of Ostia?"

"Lycia, 'eh? Bit stupid name for a country if you ask me, but then again it's better then America, or even France mind you. Yes girl, I did and you do well to address me as Lady Rowena when you speak with me. If your looking for your bizarre friends, they're in the great hall, just follow the carpet to get there." She jerked her thumb to the right and the long table-runner looking rug. "And I suggest you learn some manners Mr. Thief and do something about that horrible scar. The dramatical effect is non existent, if that's what you were going for."

Legault chose to ignore this. "Well, that was an interesting conversation. Imagine, a living panting," muttered Lucius and Nino noted how he limped on every alternate step.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it but painting's aren't supposed to criticize you, they're suppose to hang on the wall and sit there," snapped Isadora, her sword still clasped in her right hand. There was a faint blush upon her cheeks, her pride probably serious offended from being insulted and reprimanded by a portrait.

"Well, I suppose so but if you're in need of a conversation you can always find one," said Lucius cheerily, trying to bring up the group's morale. It didn't seem to be working well.

"Having a conversation with that woman is like trying to talk to a drunk Firefly. Believe me, I've tried," said Legault swiftly, walking a little faster then the rest of their group.

"When have you tried to talk to a drunk tactician?" asked Isadora, turning to the thief.

"Her birthday, remember? It was about the time we were headed to Nabata, we were staying at an inn in Ostia and she suddenly ordered drinks for everyone in the inn, in honor of her eighteenth birthday." When the female Paladin continued to frown, Legault's smile widened. "Probably better you don't remember. She thought Hector was her husband and tried to make out with him right then and there."

". . . Okay . . ."

Legault was still smiling as though the memory brought back some pleasure only he could get out of the situation. Nino herself was glad she wasn't there during the incident, it was probably one of the less pleasant memories one could have.

"Firefly doesn't seem the kind of person to do something like that though," said Nino quietly and Lucius turned to look at her with a smile.

"Well, a year ago she wasn't really like that but she did drink herself silly at the feast Lord Hausen threw for the safe return of Lady Lyn and embarrass herself by claiming she was a FalcoKnight and that all bend at her will, but I guess a year is a pretty long time for somebody to change."

Nino giggled slightly, pulling Legault's cloak tighter to her still cold body. "She did that?"

"Yep."

"Why is it hard to picture her doing that?"

". . . You haven't been with us long enough to know what Firefly is really like . . ." muttered Lucius darkly, leaning against his staff for a moment as a grimace of pain crossed his face from his injured leg.

Coughing horribly, Rebecca tried desperately to get ash out of her eyes as she steeped out of a fireplace grate. Her vision was blurred and her eyes itched from the soot, but after a few furious blinks her gaze came into a near complete focus. "That was the worst experience of my life!" she snapped, turning to face Wil who had just clambered out of the fireplace as well. Her childhood friend was completely covered in ash from head to foot, his normally auburn hair pitch black and the only color on his person were his watering, bloodshot hazel eyes.

"Well, it could be worse," said the young Sniper brightly, coughing out more soot. "Enlighten me," she barked sarcastically, rolling her eyes and wiping soot from her face on her scarf and only bringing more soot to her face.

"Serra could be complaining," he said, still overly cheery, running his hands through his hair and shaking ash from it. His hair was now partially streaked with its normal chestnut color, giving him a very bizarre look.

A loud clunk of armor and a vast amount of coughing announced the arrival of the Caelin Knight's Commander. Kent, his copper hair turned black from soot, stood shakily, still hacking horribly. "That was a pleasant experience," he said sarcastically, looking somewhat nauseous. Rebecca couldn't blame him; she was wondering why she wasn't sick with all that spinning.

"Wasn't it?"

Another crash of armor signaled Sain's arrival. He got quickly to his feet and blinked to get the ash out of his eyes, doing little in the field of success and only serving to irritate them more. "Ah, even covered in ash, you are still beautiful as ever Lady Rebecca!" The female Sniper growled.

"Cram it Sain, I'm not in the mood."

"Well why not?" said a cool female voice, "I think your friend's very handsome, even if he's coated an inch thick in ash." The group jumped, turning. Nobody else was near the fireplace they had just come out of, and there wasn't any corners where somebody could hide in. There was a large painting of two women was on the wall next to the fireplace though. One was blonde with dark skin, dressed in a pale blue gown fit for nobility and her companion was very tall and thin with high cheekbones and a narrow face. Her long sheet of bright, platinum hair framed around her rather youthful face and her long, white and lavender robes clung to her body in a pretty – but not seductive – manner. The dark skinned woman seemed to be the one who had made the comment.

"DEMON PAINTING!" yelled Rebecca, drawing an arrow and sinking it into the canvas.

"Dammit girl, you just ruined good piece of canvas!" yelled the dark skinned woman furiously, "All the paintings talk and move here, so get used to it!"

"Wow, talking paintings, that's interesting," murmured Erk's voice from behind the group. The Sage was looking very irritable; the reason being the orb atop his Mend staff had been smashed, rendering the thing useless, or that most of his tome had been turned black from soot.

"Hey, your cute too," said the other woman in a voice distinctly Etrurian, "And, ah ha! You're a Sage I see. Young for one, aren't you?"

"Wait, you're from Elibe?" asked Kent sharply, looking at the second woman. She smiled slightly and nodded.

"Yes I am, good knight. Let me introduce myself formally." She curtsied low and spoke to Kent's face, which was amusing considering her entire body was about the size of it. "I am Elimine, bishop of Etruria."

End Chapter VIII: Pitture

Review


	9. Interesse Malriposto

I do not own Fire Emblem or Harry Potter. Fire Emblem belongs to Nintendo and Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. All song lines belong to their original singers. I own all original characters and the plotline.

Chapter IX:

Interesse Malriposto

_. . . I feel like I'm trapped inside these walls, trying to find my way . . .  
-'No Way Out' by Leann Rimes_

Limstella's golden eyes looked disgustedly around at the humans in their . . . city, she supposed. It was a street crammed with crooked buildings, all overcrowded inside with people and items. The women were dressed too skimpily, if they were on Elibe they might have been considered whores, and the men were idiots, to put it nicely, winking at her annoyingly. She hated having to switch her favored indigo coat and white trousers for the common attire of this world but, hopefully, she wouldn't have to put up with this scum too long. Her hypnotic eyes were hidden behind tinted black glasses, her wavy hair pulled in a ponytail that brushed her mid back while all of her golden jewelry was missing from her person. Dressed in a black skirt and a turtleneck, along with her old boots, most regarded her as another 'gothic teenager-wanna-be.' How she longed to kill something, it had been a while since she had, though none of these people has any worthwhile Quintessence.

". . . God damn freak, that fucking attack hurt . . ."

She turned around out of interest, her eyes flashing behind her glasses. A boy, as scrawny and weak-looking as Elbert's stupid brat, was with two boulders of humans. His hair was near colorless and the left-hand side of his face bore a wound she knew could only be inflected by a Flux Spell. It was tinged with a slight purplish edge, making it look poisoned, though in reality it wasn't. So some of the Lycian army had already gotten to boy; that was interesting.

'Probably that blasted Druid of theirs, Canas was it?' she thought, walking over to the boys and leaning nonchalantly against a chair of a plastic table. Though the blonde boy's bodyguards were low in soul and life energy, the boy himself had very powerful Quintessence, especially for somebody so weak looking and small built.

"They should have been kissed, my opinion. Heh, Aunt Bellatrix would get a kick out of that."

'Kissed?' she thought with mild interest that did not last too long. Against her better judgment, she listened further and crossed her arms over her chest. Her master would be pleased if she could get the boy's life power, but he had information about where Eliwood's army was, and she wanted to know what else that child knew.

". . . Why did that old fart have to get control over the ministry? Otherwise those bloody bastards could have gotten their reward. That bitch laid her hands on me too! How dare that blonde bimbo do such a thing! Doesn't she know who my father is?"

'My, this human brat sure has a big mouth for such weak physical power. But, he seems likely to know of the boy master wants.' Limstella spoke in her monotonic voice, one that could have belonged to anybody. "Boy, I have a question to ask you." The boy turned, disgust written all over his face as he looked her up and down.

"Watch who you're calling boy, I am Draco Malfoy." His voice was so egotistical and proud it was disgusting to hear.

"I'm looking for a boy by the name of Harry Potter, where is he?" she asked coldly. He sneered at her and turned away, his robes flaring dramatically about his legs. "Why do you care? I'm not telling you even if I know," he said with even more disgust, turning his back on her. Quick as a flash, she grabbed his wrist and gripped hard. He yelled in pain, his bodyguards moving lazily in towards the two.

"Answer my question. Do you know where he is?" she spoke softly, narrowing her eyes behind her glasses.

"I don't know!" he yelled, fear written all over his face. It was a shame he had such strong Quintessence, he could have made such good use out of it and yet he remained a fearful little coward, blinded by his bigotry and pride.

"But you know him well enough." She was amazed that his two 'bodyguards' weren't doing anything. Then again, they looked too stupid to know anything other then a dog's commands, and it interfered less with her problems. With her free hand, she took off her glasses. He stared into her apathetic eyes, deep in a hypnotic state of mind as a spot of drool entered his mouth.

"You will give me as much information as you can about this boy over the year. Tell me everything you know about him currently," she said coolly, "And in return, I will give you power."

He gave a nod, his eyes losing their life in seconds. Her lips curled into a smile, finally recognizing where his Quintessence must come from. She let go and he spoke in a monotone that matched her own. He told her about how Harry Potter defied this world's Dark Lord five times, of his friends and attitude, his fears and strengths. He then began to recount everything he knew about this world, about its customs and powers, telling her of his family's power and wealth. Eventually, Draco Malfoy's bodyguards had gone while Malfoy himself had talked himself hoarse. Limstella nodded as he spoke, drawing a small bit of his Quintessence away to satisfy her own lust of power.

Yes, Malfoy would suffice as her little spy of this world.

Firefly stood out like a sore thumb in the crowds with her bright hair and clothing that didn't match any other. Many people gave her odd looks, shooing away from her and Farina, commenting beneath their breaths about the Pegasus Knight's short skirt and the tight vest Firefly wore beneath her cloak. She didn't care though, she was looking for a place to house her and the other four mercenaries she was forced to command. Firefly tossed back her blonde hair again and gave an impatient sigh.

"St. Elimine, doesn't this place have an inn!" she said, turning to Farina. The Pegasus Knight was attracting far more attention, and it was evident that it was starting to wear thin on her already meager amount of patience. They had already encountered about twenty men who had asked them out, and it was written all over her face that she wished she had her Killer Lance.

"Hey, I have an idea, oh brilliant tactician," she said with a sly smile, "These men seem to like us so much, why don't we try and get a room with them? That'd save us some money for sure."

"Great plan, I LOVE IT!" squealed Firefly, her eyes glittering in the late afternoon sunshine. Farina smirked and walked over to a set of twin boys with bright red hair who were joking about something near by and lazily tapped one on the shoulder. He turned and stared, wide eyed at her. Firefly couldn't tell if it was Farina's clothing, her face or her long tan legs, but there was something about the Ilian that had the boy struck dumb. His brother turned and grinned widely at Firefly.

"Hello there!" he said brightly, waving lightly. He had the same strange accent everyone else here had, a sort of lame and less airy form of an Eturian one.

Farina put on a seductive smile and leaned close, speaking in a cooing, overly sugared dialect. "You look like nice men. My friends and I are in need of place to crash for a couple days, do you have the room?" she asked innocently, her bottom lip trembling and eyes glistening with crystal tears.

'She's good.' Firefly came up, smiling too. "Hi there, you wouldn't have room for, five people would you?" The tactician wasn't as good an actor as Farina, but she could fake a good voice. When Farina shot her a glance, Firefly cleared her throat. "Oh, five people and a Pegasus? Pwease?"

They looked edgy, exchanging glances, but both soon cracked identical grins. "Of course we do! We don't mind at all, do we Fred?" asked the one who was eyeing Firefly.

"Of course not George! So, who are your friends? More lovely ladies?" responded his twin, one blue eye still on Farina's face. Firefly grinned, thinking of the others who would have gladly murdered the boy for even suggesting they were 'lovely ladies.'

"A knight, a warrior and a swordsman," smiled Firefly, "We'd be willing to pay some rent." Farina shot her a nasty look as Firefly pulled a handful of gold from her cloak pocket. It was her month's wages for serving under Lords Hector and Eliwood, five thousand gold. The Pegasus Knight muttered something about her own paycheck beneath her breath.

Both twin's eyes grew wide at the sight of the money and George (at least, she thought he was George) cried out, "Holy mother of shit! Of course you and your friends can stay with us!"

"Money makes the world go round, remember that Farina," said Firefly as the boys lead them towards a building. They'd go back to get Harken and the others after finding the location of their new accommodations, though now all she really cared about was getting something to eat.

Farina sighed exasperatedly, running her gloved hand through her dark blue hair. "I already knew Firefly, and please don't state the obvious."

"_Unpleasant Visitors _

_This morning at dawn, reports Rita Skeeter, the Minister of Magic arrived at work to find five men, all carrying medieval weapons, in the atrium of the Ministry. At once, all five were put under arrest and are being charged as Death Eaters. Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones, says that she has orders to kill these men. _

_Clearly these men were on an assassination mission by He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named. We can assure the public that these Death Eaters will be killed in a sharp, painful way to remind everyone that the auroras have the upper hand over these barbaric disgraces to the wizarding world_. _Article continued on pages 6 and 7._"

Tonks was fuming as she threw the newspaper to the table, her eyes flashing various colors. Most Order members knew that to toy with the auror while her irises were like that was like inciting a hungry lioness. "Damned Minister, damn them all! Didn't Dumbledore tell him to look for anybody in armor?"

Louise, now happily back in her regular clothing and rid of the blood and dirt from their battle with Sonia, was looking at the picture heading the article Tonks had rid herself of. The countess's violet eyes were following the enthusiastic movements of Cornelius Fudge, while in the background were two men in armor and three others at wand point by aurors. "Amazing, so you can make an instant panting of someone or something that moves?" she muttered to herself, ignoring Tonks' outburst.

Fiora folded her arms across her chest, chewing her tongue. She had a headache throbbing in her temples, similar to the one she had felt non-stop since the events on Dread Isle two months ago, and it was not getting any better. "Well, shouldn't you be doing something? Like making sure people don't kill our comrades?" There was an icy tone in her voice as she turned her turquoise eyes to Tonks.

The young woman tried to tower over Fiora, failing to do so even on tip toe, and finally settled on narrowing her now garnet eyes. "Fudge doesn't listen to anything we say even if it's pure logic! Last year he tried to kill Harry because he's a conceited bastard who likes a cushy job on top of it all!"

Louise sighed and ran a hand through her silky hair. "So are most Eturian dukes. If I were in your place, milady Tonks, I would ask Lord Dumbledore to speak with this 'Fudge'.

"For us, we have to make sure that nothing happens to our charge," said Fiora, her voice icier then it normally was. It was the tone she often used during battle or in discussions about pay.

'Damn mercenaries,' thought Tonks and turned on her heel, marching out of the kitchen with her hair mirroring the state of her eyes. Louise sighed and drummed her fingers on the scratched wooden tabletop.

Although being back in Gryffindor tower would have normally comforted Harry, he didn't feel pleasure very much. He was seated in an armchair in the tower, eyes closed in contentment. He enjoyed being alone, it gave him time to think about the events of the day.

His mind lingered the most on those siblings, Ninian and Nils. Why was it, why was it that he felt he had known them before today? Their voices, their soft and unique voices, reminded him of something that gnawed at his insides, while their ethereal eyes were burned into his mind. Harry knew, he just _knew _that he had seen those kind of eyes before.

"You're going mad," he said with a smirk of mirthless humor, "They're from another world, why would you know them?"

'Because you see yourself within their eyes.'

Harry yelled in shock as he jerked up straight in his chair, looking around for the speaker. He couldn't tell whose voice that was, it could have belonged to anybody, but nobody was in the common room. Grinding his teeth behind his dry lips, he tried to calm himself by gripping the chair's arms very tightly.

'You see their fear, their horrors, and you see yourself cowering behind them as well. You are as weak and childish as you were the day your parents died. You're still a baby.'

He leaned forward, running his hands through his hair. "Shut up! I'm not a coward!" he yelled, knowing how very insane he sounded.

'You're a liar. You ran away from everything last year, ran from knowledge and logic because you wanted to prove yourself. You wanted revenge on Dumbledore for keeping you locked up, because you knew that you were better then him. You knew that you could defeat Voldemort on your own with nothing more then five years of magical talent and insane luck, while he had forty five years advantage and immoral talent on his hand.'

"JUST SHUT UP!" he yelled, standing and feeling his throat tighten. Anger was burning inside his chest, his temper flaring just below the surface point. Though the voice did not laugh, he knew it was amusement when it spoke again.

'Face it. You are a coward, who hides behind your friends. Hermione is the smart one, you could never be as smart as her, even if you studied yourself to the bone. Ron is the brave one, he'll charge out into a Quidditch field knowing he'll lose and still fight to the end. He gave up chances to live long and be normal just to be with you. And Dumbledore, you follow him blindly because you are incompetent in your own right. Do you really think people follow you because you're talented? Because you're heroic and brave and loyal?'

He tightened his fists even more and – with a slight wince – saw blood trickling down to the golden carpet. He hadn't even noticed his fingernails pierce the skin. "They follow me because they trust me!" he yelled, "SO JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!"

'The follow you because your lucky, and your famous. You are unattractive and unintelligent, cowardly and weak. All you have to your name is that scar upon your brow. So why don't you just shut up and realize the truth?'

"GO TO HELL!" he roared and the portrait hole creaked open, revealing the pale green hair and haunting eyes of Ninian. She had a sickly sort of flush to her face, probably from how wet and cold she had been this morning, though her dress was dry now. She gave him a slightly startled look, seeing his bloody hands and red, angry face.

"Oh I'm so sorry sir," she said, backing out of the common room, "I didn't know you were in here." The scared edge to her voice unnerved him and made his insides squirm in a sort of embarrassment.

"Oh, no, it's okay, really," he said, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, "I just . . . was thinking of something unpleasant."

She adjusted the thin shawl about her shoulders and entered the red and gold room, gently closing the Fat Lady's portrait. Her eyes examined the rich murals that adorned the roof of the common room in amazement, then looked to the elaborate fireplace mantel, carved from stone and featuring exotic magical creatures. He had never really given it much thought before, though now his emerald eyes turned to the lizard form of a dragon on the right hand side of the grate. Ninian seemed most captivated by that carving, and most frightened by it.

"Do you have dragons in your world?" he asked, wiping blood off his hands and onto the knees of his jeans. She jumped violently as though he had slapped her and turned to him, her face and eyes sad again.

"We . . . There were dragons, a thousand years ago, but they left the land after the war between them and humans. Lord Eliwood's trying to stop their return . . . since it would mean certain destruction." Harry thought about Norbert and the Hungarian Horntail from last year, not really thinking they could be too much of a hassle, when properly contained of course.

"Well, erm, the dragons here aren't as intelligent, I guess," he said, trying to ignore his stinging hands, "They certainly aren't smart enough to have a war with humans." She gave him a sharp look, turning her head so quickly she might have gotten whiplash.

"Really?" she asked in a softer voice then he had heard her yet use, "Are they . . . like animals, or more . . . intelligent?"

He thought back to his experience with dragons and winced slightly. "They're like giant, fire breathing wolves, really. Plant a human in their view and it's gone in seconds." Her already pallid coloring went marble pale and she fell backwards for a moment, leaning against the mantle to steady herself.

"Are you okay?" he asked quickly, reaching out a hand in helpfulness. She shook her head rapidly. "Dizzy spell, I'm sorry . . ." she said, "I just need to sit down . . ." She walked over to an armchair, collapsing into it.

"So, what's your world like?" he asked pathetically, trying to get his mind off of the disembodied voice from before. She twirled one of her many rings and spoke quietly. "I'm afraid I can't give too much of a good description. I don't stay in one place too long, since . . . my brother and I travel a lot and I don't pay much attention to the surroundings . . . Lady Firefly will be able to give you a wonderful description, she's been so many places . . ."

"Lady . . . Firefly?"

Ninian smiled lightly, rubbing at the engravings on a silver ring. Her eyes had lost their sad quality, which made him feel slightly better. She looked beautiful when she was happy. "Her real name's Alexandria, but she wants us all to call her Firefly. She's our tactician, and wonderful to be around. You can talk to her about anything . . ." Her eyes were sad again and the dancer stood, pulling her shawl tighter about her shoulders.

"I could give you a tour of the castle, if you like," he offered. He felt better just talking to her, something about her presence had lifted his mood. Since Sirius's death, he had mainly wanted to be alone, though now he just wanted to be with somebody, not alone with his thoughts. She nodded delicately and smiled.

"That would be nice. Do you mind if Nils accompanied us? He's in the library." Harry smiled and shook his head.

Sonia was used to being in charge, used to barking orders to the underlings in the Black Fang's forces. It brought her happiness, and most other things did not. This was why she did not bode well with people treating her inferiority. Masked men and women in black cloaks watched her every move, the intoxicating scent of Quintessence filling her nose. Most magic-users, even including people like the Marquess of Wrigley, would feel ill at the very whiff of such power emitted by these people. She kept a calm face as she spoke with a cool, unconcerned voice. Normally, around people of power, she adopted a sugary tone, but it was not needed this time.

"My master, Lord Nergal of Valor, finds your plans very interesting. He will back you with all his might, including a score of assassins and golems that can steal the very souls from a mortal body." A soft wave of muttering flickered amongst the masked vassals at her words, lasting only a second but proving their interest in her proposal. "All he asks in return is a simple request."

The vermilion, demonic orbs of whom she was speaking to flickered in enjoyment and contempt. "What might your master's request be?" he asked in a hissing voice, strands of his snow colored hair falling across his snake-like face.

Sonia licked her lips in a luscious sort of manner. A figure – woman, by her figure – twitched slightly. "Murders, lots of murder. An insolent general by the name of Eliwood of Pherae has been a thorn in my master's side for many months, and certain members of the group he wishes to be rid of forever. If you kill these people, my master will grant you true immortality and power beyond your dreams." Her foxish eyes flickered in the dim lighting, giving her an even more ethereal effect. "He will tell you the secrets of the gods, the power to give life to your own blasphemous creations."

The red irises widened as a mad smile crossed his lipless mouth. The black-scaled python by his feet lifted its head and gave a small hiss, as if agreeing with her. The man – could you call him a man anymore? – nodded his head slowly. "We have a deal, Sonia of the Black Fang. Tell your master then it will be an honor to kill those people."

She gave a bow, her bangles jingling and her dress moving to reveal more of the ivory skin upon her legs. Several men followed her every move, looking in disgusting lust at her body. Sonia knew, by the emotion in their eyes, that they wanted her viciously and that brought a twisted smile to her face. "My master will be pleased," she finished speaking with a bitter taste in her mouth, "You will not be disappointed, Lord Voldemort, that you chose to aide Lord Nergal."

End Chapter IX: Interesse Malriposto

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